Hell is
by MaisyVonMayhem
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring Supernatural characters and OCs. Most will contain a romantic element, however many will also contain some non-consensual moments. Characters include: Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer and Crowley.
1. The Connection

Author Note:

Hi everyone, this is the first in a collection of one-shots inspired by and featuring Supernatural characters and sometimes OCs. Outside this pen name I am a erotic/dark fiction/horror writer, and so understandably many of these chapters will be dark and, as has been mentioned in the summary, will contain some elements of non-consent. These chapters are, as such, meant to be horrific as well as containing some hints of romance. Not all chapters will be like this, so I wouldn't want to put people off reading them all, but I will give fair warning before chapters containing such content. If you are upset/offended by this, please do not read those chapters.

These one-shots are the result of a challenge by a friend of mine, and so many of the stories are a direct result of what was in his head at the time or are inspired by single scenes or lines from the show. I have not written a full, canon fanfic as yet, as I don't often write with other people's characters and so it feels a little uncomfortable to me. But, I probably would have a go if I was challenged...

I hope you enjoy some of these, please let me know what you think.

PS: This is the first chapter. 'The Connection'. A Gabriel/OC one-shot. Contains non-consent.

Rose saw Cas looking over her shoulder, eyes wide, and a strange light glowing on his face as though somebody had lit a fire outside the window. She smiled slightly, confused but still utterly enamoured by him as usual. Then she felt the wooden floor underneath her bare feet move slightly, felt the whole room shaking. She turned slowly.

"It's the archangel". Cas was standing behind her, very close now, so close she could feel his breath on her shoulder.

"He's coming to destroy me. You're promised to him".

Rose was expecting something slightly more dramatic, but as quickly as the light had appeared it was gone again and standing before them was another man. He was about as tall as Cas, dark hair and warm brown eyes. He appeared to be smiling, which seemed a bit inappropriate to Rose, considering the circumstances.

"Castiel. How nice to see you."

"Gabriel." Cas's voice was lower than usual. The tone usually meant he was angry, or confused, or both.

"So, do you want to tell me exactly what you think you were about to do with my human?"

Rose frowned and stepped forward. "Excuse me. Your human?"

The archangel finally looked at her, still smiling, and he tilted his head slightly, considering her. "Yes, my human. You are promised to me Rose, as you know."

"I didn't get a choice in that though did I?" Rose stepped closer to him.

"It doesn't matter. You were promised to me and that's that. There is no choice for you."

Gabriel turned his eyes back to Cas and pointed at him, "Do you want to say anything before I destroy you?"

Rose's eyes widened in shock, again she stepped closer to the archangel. "No, please. You don't have to do that. I can explain."

His brown eyes met hers, eyebrows raised slightly, waiting. " Well, the truth is, I was scared. Scared about…you and this whole being promised thing. Cas is the only person I've been able to talk to about it, the only person who really understands. I was just upset and so I asked him to come. It's my fault we almost..." Rose knew she was rambling. Hearing her voice get quieter and finally fade to nothing, she expected the archangel to be angry.

Instead he laughed and closed the distance between them rapidly. She found herself staring into his eyes, his hand inches from her face, "Rose, you really are delightful. I could just eat you up." She saw Gabriel's eyes slide from her face and over to the angel behind her, "Which I will, in good time".

"Gabriel, you can not eat her." Cas's voice, deep and definitely confused, came from behind them.

Gabriel looked down at Rose again, still smiling, "The kids got a lot to learn, wouldn't you say, Rose?" She felt her cheeks grow warm and lowered her head. She felt the archangel's breath hot against her ear, "You have nothing to fear from me, Rose. When the time comes, you will realise that you've been wasting your time with him."

Rose felt a strange sensation overtake her as Gabriel placed a warm hand against her cheek, "We're destined to be together, Rose. You know that. Why else would I be able to make you feel like this?" Gabriel wasn't looking at her now, but over her shoulder at Cas with that strange smile on his face. His hand felt so good on her skin, she felt herself leaning towards him, wanting more.

"GABRIEL!" Cas's voice again, brought her out of her trance. She tried to steady herself, but Gabriel's hand was still hovering over her skin.

The feeling continued to wash over her, making her sway until she fell against Gabriel. "I'll make a deal with you Rose." Again, his mouth was against her ear, and the sound of his voice made her moan softly into his chest. "When the time comes, you give yourself to me willingly. If you agree to this, then I will allow you to spend time with Castiel in whatever manner you choose."

Rose shook her head, not able to form words. "Rose, make the promise or I destroy him right now."

She nodded, weakly forming the word, "yes", and sealing the deal.

Then he was gone and she momentarily saw the floorboards rushing up to meet her face before Castiel caught her.

(6 months later)

Rose blinked back a tear, feeling the archangel step closer to her. "Please, can you release me from the deal?"

Gabriel simply shook his head, "Why would you want that? You haven't been _that _satisfied with Cas. I know. I was watching."

She stifled an inner shudder, and looked at him, "He's human now. His grace has gone. I want to be with him, properly."

The angel shook his head again and took hold of her wrist, "No. A promise is a promise, Rose. If you try to break it, I will destroy him." He tugged her wrist, trying to lead her over to the fireplace, where he had laid down cushions and blankets. Feeling her resist, he looked at her, "Rose, please, come with me."

"If you really cared, you wouldn't be able to do this to me." Rose felt her anger rising and she pulled away from him, "That's why Cas is ten times better than you will ever be, because he has a heart. You're just a soulless lackey, who does what he's told and expects to be able to just _take_ his reward at the end."

Gabriel glared at her, "You need to calm down."

Rose shook her head again, "No. You need to let me go. You can't have me; even if you force me to be with you, you'll never really have me, not like Cas does." She pulled away again, trying to drag him to the opposite side of the room.

Finally, the archangel decided, enough was enough. He planted his feet and grabbed the front of Rose's top, wrenching her towards him, pulling off several buttons in the process. "Rose, you will be mine. Remember how I can make you feel." He placed one hand on her cheekbone and she instantly felt herself losing control of her senses. His hand was so warm; he made her feel safe, and made her insides burn with desire. He made her feel like he was all she'd ever wanted.

Feeling her go still in his arms, the archangel half carried her over to the fireplace. Smiling, he laid her down on the pillows, arranging them underneath her so she would be comfortable. Kneeling next to her, he straightened her dark hair around her face and slowly let his hand stroke the flesh he'd exposed when he tore her top. He smiled again, as she closed her eyes; her mouth fell open and her hands flew up to guide his hand. This would be perfect; he just knew it.

Each inch of skin he touched grew hot, and she gasped underneath him. She couldn't stop herself; she found herself wanting him to touch her. Her hand was pushing his down her stomach, down under the hem of her skirt. She almost screamed when he pulled his hand away.

"Now, now, Rose. I made a promise to you a long time ago, and I intend to keep it."

Gabriel trailed kisses down her stomach, feeling her pulse quicken. Slowly, he slid her skirt down around her hips and discarded it. When she was exposed to him fully, he took no time to study her, knowing that she was perfect in every way. Lowering his mouth between her legs he breathed gently on the soft flesh and smiled when she gasped.

Rose began to feel uncomfortable each time Gabriel's hands were not touching her skin. She began to remember someone else, someone important to her in the deepest recesses of her mind. As she felt the archangel lapping at her gently, opening her up skilfully with his tongue, the feeling that something was not quite right grew stronger. This was not how it usually felt.

The archangel, feeling Rose tighten, preventing him from tasting her as deeply as he would have liked, swiftly placed his hands on her thighs. He knew the connection would wipe all traces of Castiel from her mind, but it would also allow him better access to her. Both were very good things.

The archangel learnt from his mistake and he only broke the connection with his lover once more that night. Once he had finished with his mouth he grew somewhat tired of being gentle. He had taken her in every way he had ever imagined, feeling ecstatic each time she cried out his name in pleasure or raked her nails down his back. It had been when he was almost spent, and had flipped her onto her back again, and had buried himself inside her instantly, that he once again lifted his hands. He simply wanted to watch her reaction. Her eyes, almost opaque whilst he was touching her, had cleared and she looked at him in clear recognition of the fact that he was not Castiel. He was neither the man nor the angel she loved and had welcomed into her bed so many months before.

Rose did not say anything, but tears slid from her eyes and he felt her skin growing colder beneath him. It actually unsettled Gabriel so much that he quickly stroked his hands over her skin and then drew her into his lap becoming gentle once again as he thrusted softly into her, rubbing his hands against the small of her back throughout. Even though he felt her body responding with pleasure to his touches once again, he found himself whispering in her ear, "It will be alright, Rose. I promise you this will get better with time."


	2. Finish What You Started

Author Note:

The second story is a Cas/OC one-shot. Again, this is somewhat non-consensual but a lot tamer than the previous chapter.

Emily heard the gentle rustling of wings behind her, and smiled softly to herself before meeting his gaze in the mirror. He was standing very close to her, hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. This was no problem, she was used to him being close. His face was different though, his eyes darker than normal and his jaw set.

"Cas?" He allowed her to twist round until she was facing him. He did not retreat as he usually would to give her space.

He looked down. "I am sorry Emily. I can't wait any longer."

She shook her head, confused. A lump was forming in her throat, and her eyes were stinging. The sound of Cas's voice, deeper than usual, had made her feel cold inside. Afraid. She'd heard him speak in that voice before, but it had never been directed at her.

He moved his face closer to her, against her ear. "I rebelled for Dean, for the world and my father's creations, but mostly for you; for the promise that I would have you. Dean told me that you, and what you make me feel, were worth saving, and I believed him. I still do. But I can't wait any longer."

She felt the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. "Cas, please just tell me what I've done wrong and I'll do anything I can to make it right again. Just tell me…"

The angel shook his head. He needed her to be quiet. If she carried on talking he would break. Before he was even consciously aware of it he'd pushed her backwards, lifted her up slightly so she was perched on the sink and then his hands and his mouth were on her, all over her.

Emily didn't know what was happening. His hands were moving so fast that she felt like they were everywhere at once, moving over her and inside her, sometimes gently stroking and sometimes grabbing at her viciously, leaving bruises on the soft parts of her flesh. She remembered something Jimmy had said; that having an angel inside him was like being chained to a comet. She could understand now; she had no control, Cas was far too strong and fast for her to stop him.

Castiel didn't know what he was doing. Not really. His desperate need to claim her, to explore her, had urged him to slide two fingers inside the soft folds between her legs. He felt Emily gasp into his mouth, which was currently locked tight over her lips, and felt her hips buck slightly under him as he touched her. He didn't know why it was important; he just knew that he'd somehow crossed a line. He didn't linger there, sliding his fingers in and out of her warmth twice and feeling her tightening around him, before returning to other parts of her body.

Emily had gone limp in Cas's arms as he continued. She didn't even know whether it felt good, or whether she was scared. She was simply confused. She didn't fight back when she felt Cas push her dressing gown further up her thighs, exposing her.

Cas knew enough to manoeuvre his body in between her legs, and once he'd done so he finally stopped. Allowing himself to slow down he pushed himself closer to her, again feeling the warmth coming from her. Very slowly, and awkwardly his hands moved to the belt he was wearing and started fumbling with the buckle.

Through her sore eyes she looked up at the angel before her, struggling to undo his vessel's clothing. This looked like the Cas she knew, awkward with humans, unsure of himself around her and needing her guidance. She blinked back more tears and sat forward slightly on the edge of the sink.

Noticing the movement, Castiel looked up at Emily. He sighed and let his hands drop to his sides, defeated by the belt buckle and utterly undone by the look on her face.

"What are you waiting for?"

He stared at her, shaking his head. He opened his mouth as if to answer and decided against it. Without any gesture in her direction he turned around and left the room.

Sliding down from her uncomfortable perch on the sink, Emily turned to study herself in the mirror. Her face was swollen and red from crying. Castiel's hands had left ugly welts on her neck, the tops of her breasts and her thighs. He'd broken one of the straps on the nightdress Jo had given her. She closed her eyes tight, trying to stop more tears escaping.

She found him sitting on the bed in the other room, face in his hands. Angry suddenly, and knowing that what she was about to do was dangerous, she crossed the room to him and pushed him backwards on to the bed. Her fingers were none too gentle as she ripped his belt through the loops and unzipped his trousers. He stared at her as she climbed on top of him; now he was the one who looked terrified.

Finally letting the tears spill she put her face right next to his, "It didn't have to be like this. This is not what I wanted and you knew that. We talked for hours about this, Cas, each night we were together. You know I wanted you, wanted this to happen eventually. It wasn't like I'd said no, like I'd gone back on that little deal you seem to have made with Dean. But, it doesn't matter what you say now, this is the way you want it – so finish what you started, Cas."


	3. The Sacrifice

THE SACRIFICE

Summary: This is in response to a request by a lovely reviewer. Trickster/OC. This is kind of sweet and fluffy for me. See what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Supernatural characters.

Isobel cast her eyes around the forest clearing; watching the gyrating, semi-clothed bodies of the revellers in the flickering firelight. Drummers placed around the edges of the clearing pounded out a fast tribal rhythm that kept the dancers in time.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Isobel turned slightly to see Freya standing by her side. She was holding a cup of red wine, and her dark curls fell lasciviously over the thin red material of her dress. Freya's eyes filled with delight, met Isobel's, " You look incredible! How are you feelings, honey?"

Isobel smoothed her hands along the tops of her thighs, feeling the chilly wind ruffling her long white dress. "A little worried, I suppose."

Freya laughed, "Oh lord, you don't have anything to be worried about! You are stunning; our god will be very pleased. Thank you for agreeing, Isobel."

Eyeing her sacrificial white dress dubiously, Isobel nodded. She became vaguely aware that the drumming had stopped and a hush had descended upon the clearing. Freya stepped into her line of vision, dress shimmering, arms raised high above her head.

Isobel swallowed hard, feeling moisture beading on her forehead. She watched as Freya dropped to her knees, scrabbling around in the dirt in front of her, muttering something. Then she stood, facing her congregation, "Loki! Trickster God! We invoke thee! Come to us, see the gift we have brought for you." Freya turned towards Isobel.

The knife in her hand glinted in the moonlight and Isobel's eyes widened; she began to wonder whether she should have asked a few more questions before agreeing to this whole ritual thing.

Freya frowned as she stepped towards Isobel, feeling the wind heighten and whip around the circle. As she moved she whispered the name of her god over and over, and the crowd echoed her, recreating the sibilant hiss; "Loki. Trickter. Loki. Trickster."

Isobel started to rise from her seat, but was knocked backwards violently by another gust of wind. As it moved around the circle the gust set siege to the fire burning in the middle, extinguishing it and hushing the revellers' chant.

Isobel's eyes darted around unnerved by the silence. She became aware of a growing rumble of excited voices from the back of the circle. There was movement also, as one by one the revellers dropped to their knees. One voice rose above the others; a man's voice.

"Ok, ok, I'm here, yes, lovely to see you all again." Isobel was confused as she saw the fairly normal looking man, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, push his way into the centre of the circle.

"Well, have you been kidnapping innocents again?" He raised his arms and looked at the people gathered around him. "Thanks for the last sacrifice guys; I must say she was utterly endearing and not at all an annoying little brat that I returned to her parents at the first opportunity."

The revellers seemed confused, and then the man laughed which seemed to comfort them somewhat. He rubbed his hands together, "So, which snotty nosed little kid have you managed to steal away from Mommy and Daddy this time then?"

Isobel found herself roughly dragged to her feet, a knife held at her neck, "No, this time we've done much better, we said we would. This is your sacrifice." Isobel's eyes met the man's for a second before she felt the sharp dig of the blade against her skin. She felt a small bead of wetness roll down her neck and onto her chest.

"Put that knife down, now!" The voice was louder than she could ever have imagined. Isobel opened her eyes again. The man moved closer, his hands raised in front of him, "How many times do I have to tell you; you do not need to actually spill blood for me. I can do that part myself."

Isobel felt the pressure around her neck vanish and she stumbled forward slightly, hand pressed to the slight cut on the tender part of her neck. Before she knew what was happening she found herself pressed against the man, his green jacket draped around her shoulders. He was swiftly shepherding her to the edge of the circle, towards the darkness of the forest. He was waving his hand back towards the crowd, "So, yeah, thanks for this. I'll see you all around."

Isobel looked back at the stunned revellers. They seemed highly confused. The man again, raised a placatory arm and waved in their direction, "I'll see you next year then. I promise to be good to you all and stuff, and to, er, repay you generously for this fine gift you've given me. Ok, seeya, bye."

As the man hustled her into the cool, damp nighttime forest Isobel wondered whether she might have jumped straight from the frying pan and into the fire. She looked up at him, her mouth open slightly, so many unanswered questions just waiting to escape.

He looked down at her and shook his head, placing a finger to his own lips, "Save the questions for later. We need to get out of here." He directed a thumb back over his shoulder, "You may not have noticed, but these people are insane."

(later)

Isobel watched the man walk around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. From the frustrated sighs he kept making, she assumed he couldn't find what he wanted. She looked down at herself, still dressed in white, still with his jacket draped round her shoulders. He had placed a steaming mug of liquid down on the table in front of her some time ago, but had told her she couldn't drink it yet.

Hearing footsteps approaching and sensing him standing by her side, she looked up. Slowly he dropped two marshmallows into the liquid in the cup and nodded at her, looking satisfied. "Now you can drink." He sat down opposite her at the table and smiled, crossing his arms in front of him, "So, questions, comments?"

Isobel had many of both, but looking at him and taking in the enormity of the situation she realised she could not form the words. Instead she looked down at the mug, watching the marshmallows bob and melt into the liquid.

The man watched her silently, still smiling. Inside his heart was racing. She was the first real companion he had had in centuries and yet she could not speak to him. Gently he reached out with his mind, trying to understand how she was feeling.

Isobel sighed, looking into the man's light brown eyes. _Who are you? Where am I? What is going to happen to me? Why did you save me? When can I go home?_ The questions were there she just couldn't speak. She felt cold, the shock of the night finally catching up to her. Her hands were shaking slightly where they were bundled in her lap.

The man's eyes softened, the smile falling from his face. "I can answer those questions if you want me to."

(later)

The Trickster watched her sleep, curled up under his covers, his jacket still wrapped around her. The early morning light was threading fingers through her blonde hair, making it glisten.

In a few hours she would wake up and, knowing this he prayed for time to slow down, he would have to take her back home as he had promised her last night. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He wished he had not made that promise.

He had talked for hours, sitting opposite her at the table. He had answered every question she had, leaving out a few important details about his past. He did not want to scare her anymore than he already had. When she had started to fall asleep he had felt disappointed. He wanted to hear all about her, wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

He looked at her again and started to reach out with his mind. In her dreams she was back in the clearing, knife at her throat, but he was not there. Nobody was going to save her.

Pulling back he sat gently by her side and ran a hand through her hair, whispering her name, "Isobel, wake up now."

Her eyes blinked open and her upper body flew away from the bed. She was still in the nightmare, looking around her wildly until her eyes fell on him. Not expecting it, but feeling happy nonetheless, the Trickster smiled when she wrapped her arms around him and clung on tight, burying her head under his chin.

Isobel couldn't believe what she was doing at first. Cosying up to a pagan god probably wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. She did feel a little guilty though, she had not thanked him for helping her last night and her nightmare had made it all too clear what would have happened to her if he had not turned up.

He groaned slightly, too quietly for her to hear, as he pushed her back. "I like you too." He laughed. "Now, breakfast, and then I'll get you home."

She saw his face fall slightly as he said those words, and Isobel felt the waves of guilt washing over her again. " I have to say though, you are by far the best sacrifice I've had in a long time, Isobel."

She laughed. Watching him move around the kitchen she remembered him telling her about some of his best pranks. She had laughed, purely because he told the tales with such passion and enthusiasm. She had known it was wrong of her to laugh; after all he had killed people, but she found she couldn't help herself. She couldn't remember having laughed so much before.

Over breakfast Isobel told him how she had become involved in the ritual last night; how she had met Freya. He thought it was hilarious, of course. He told her of the countless small children he had returned to their homes throughout the years; all of them meant to be sacrifices to him, the bloodthirsty Trickster god.

Soon enough though, breakfast was over and the plates had been washed and returned to their places in the cupboards. Despite enjoying her time with the man more than she thought she would, or should, she was surprised by the mixed feelings she felt as she stood outside her flat facing him.

(later)

He too was overwhelmed somewhat by the emotions he was feeling. He did not want to let her go. Even now, he was picturing whisking her away with him, never letting her leave. He found that he couldn't even look at her.

Isobel was upset to see that the smile had disappeared from his face; he looked so downcast it was heartbreaking. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his arm, "Will I see you again?"

He didn't meet her eyes, "You're forgetting who I am. Most people pray never to see me again."

She smiled slightly, "Oh, sorry, I forgot, big bad Trickster god, right?" She was slightly confused when he didn't laugh with her. "Listen, I just enjoyed spending time with you. I know it must sound really stupid to you."

Still not looking at her, he simply shrugged and nodded his head.

Isobel shook her head, feeling her eyes start to water. Quickly she pulled her keys out of her bag and fumbled with them, trying to get her door open before he saw her crying.

"Please, Isobel, don't be sad." His hand was on hers again, stopping her completing her task of opening the door. "I don't mean to hurt you, but I'm only trying to do the right thing." She looked confused, and he felt his own eyes start to sting. "You just, can't understand. You're the first person who has understood me, known who I am, and not been terrified of me. You're the first person who has laughed when I told them I've killed people for fun. I just… don't want you to go… I've been so lonely."

Isobel shook his hand away from hers and opened her door. Stepping in she looked at him, "Please, come inside. Just for awhile."

He felt what little will he had fade away as he stepped towards her, closing the door behind him and gently holding her against it.

Isobel closed her eyes, feeling his warmth pressed against her, and placed her hands on his chest.

He studied her carefully; her eyes fluttering slightly, mouth slightly open. He smiled to himself as he took in the white sacrificial dress covering her. Under him he could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

When his lips met hers, he was more gentle and tentative than she imagined he would be. He almost teased her with his mouth, nudging against her lips until she gave in and responded.

The Trickster felt his heart beat faster as she moaned in satisfaction. He felt her curl her hands around the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Gently, he pushed her head back further against the door, breaking contact with her lips and kissing down her jaw to her neck. Slowly he ran his lips and his tongue over the small, ragged cut she had sustained last night, earning him another moan of pleasure. When he looked at her again, the cut was gone, replaced by smooth, white skin.

Slowly, he ran his hand up her leg, dragging the filmy white material up until her thigh was uncovered.

Sensing what he wanted, Isobel bent her knee and lifted her leg, placing it around his waist. Feeling his warmth between her legs made her cry out again. She bit her lip, lowering her head to his shoulder and placing small kisses and bites on his skin.

He grasped hold of her other leg tightly, pulling it up till she was supported only by his arms, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The cries and muffled moans coming from her caused a lump in his throat; infuriated him and excited him at the same time. He forced himself against her more tightly, grinding himself against her.

Gasping, Isobel threw her head back. She wanted to cry out, to say his name, but she had no name to say. Instead she begged him to continue, "Please…please don't stop."

The Trickster moved his hand between them and under her dress, pushing her underwear aside. Isobel felt the familiar aching deep inside her and begged him to take her.

He freed himself from his jeans and leaned closer to her, hearing her sharp intake of breath at the feel of him. Placing a hand on the door above her head to steady himself, he moved closer, whispering in her ear, "I want you to call me Gabriel."

Isobel nodded and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as he pushed against her. This time there was no barrier and he entered her, smoothly, pushing into her as far as he could until the small of her back was tight against the door.

At first he was slow and gentle, not wanting to hurt her. He slid in and out of her slowly, over and over again, feeling the delightful clenching of her muscles each time he plunged back into her. She was shaking in his arms, but he held her tightly, biting her neck softly, whispering to her and not even really knowing what he was saying.

It felt like torture to Isobel; each time he pulled away only to spread her wide again, invading her and forcing a soft moan from her mouth.

As he pushed into her with his body, he also did so with his mind. He felt like he was swimming, drowning in her. He could hear her, almost screaming at him with her mind, to go faster, harder. He wouldn't though, not till she said it.

She was so quiet, her voice cracking as she dug her nails into his back, that he almost didn't hear her. "Please… faster. Gabriel, please."

So he obeyed. Placing his hands on her hips and forcing her closer to him, he relentlessly, savagely pounded into her until she could barely speak. He loved each sound she made, every sigh, moan, strangled yelp. Each time his name fell, tumbled, from her lips he responded to whatever she commanded.

Some time later, he realised they were no longer against the door. Instead he was on top of her on the floor, still thrusting into her, testing the boundaries between pleasure and pain, as he held her hands above her head.

Isobel sighed as he collapsed on top of her, finally spent. She looked to the window and saw the sky had darkened, casting shadows around the room. Only in this light could she seem them, darker shadows curling and unfurling behind her lover. The shape of wings on the wall.

They sat talking again that night, wrapped in each other's arms. He told her what he really was, explained everything, whispered gently to her when she was at first afraid of him.

She promised she would never leave him that night. Neither knew whether it was really true; but in that moment it felt like it was.


	4. An Archangel's Tale

Summary: Timewarp. A look at Gabriel's earlier life in Shakespeare's England. No steamy bits I'm afraid, felt a bit wrong putting a huge bit of smut in the middle of this. Still taking requests, if there's someone you'd like me to write about and a specific scenario you have in mind let me know.

AN ARCHANGEL'S TALE

London, England, 1602

Gabriel watched the guests from the safety of a shadowy corner of the large ballroom. Secretly, he hated these big society events; the petty rivalries and squabbling reminded him too much of heaven and the constant chatter of his brothers arguing over unimportant matters. For the most part the guests here were the same type of person he'd seen at countless other events; ugly, spiteful women making small talk with rich, but obnoxious, men.

She had seemed different though and he had been waiting for an opportunity to speak to her. When he'd seen her earlier she had looked happy and over-excited, laughing with her friends. Now, she was dancing uncomfortably with a rather portly looking gentleman, her eyes seeming to avoid his at all costs and her laughter, at his no-doubt awful jokes, seeming clipped and fake compared to when he'd seen her previously.

Seeing his chance to win favour, Gabriel made his way towards the odd looking couple, smiling as her face lit up when she realised he was going to interrupt them. "Would you mind if I cut in for a moment?"

He was rather quickly cut off when another portly, or to be more honest, monstrously fat, gentleman approached him and practically bounced him away from the couple with his oversized belly. "I should say they would mind. Have you no sense of propriety? My daughter is becoming acquainted with the man she is to marry and I will not have her disturbed."

Gabriel raised his hands in defeat, preparing to walk away, when he heard her voice, "Father, what harm will a few moments cause? I don't mind, and I'm sure Oscar doesn't, do you?"

The man turned a becoming shade of angry red, but muttered curtly through pursed lips, "No, not at all."

Before he'd finished his sentence, Gabriel found himself being dragged away, through the crowd and towards the safety of the double doors leading out to the garden. The woman looked at him, laughter in her eyes, "Thank you so much for rescuing me from the most unutterably tedious man I have ever met."

He smiled, offering her his arm, "You're welcome. Although by the sound of it, you'll be spending a lot more time with him soon."

Her eyes fell and she lead them onto the veranda, overlooking the walled garden. "Yes, unfortunate really, but I suppose it can't be helped."

Gabriel leaned against the balcony, looking down at the maze beneath them. He thought her last statement was rather pragmatic and logical for someone so young, though he was surprised that she had nothing at all further to say on the matter of being married off to someone as fat and blustering as Oscar obviously was.

"I really don't want to marry him though, you know. But he has money and so my father thinks that makes us a good match." Looking at her he could see her eyes glistening slightly in the dim light. "The thought of spending the rest of my life with that man, is just…intolerable."

She was pulled out of her thoughts by shouting from the ballroom, "Celia!"

He watched her as she stared balefully back towards the open double doors. She didn't make a move to obey the shout, and instead turned back to look at him, "I'm sorry, I've been so rude. I'm Celia Faircroft."

Gabriel smiled at her, trying to block out the shouts coming from inside, "Call me Gabriel." He bowed slightly and she laughed, finally turning to walk back towards the party. He shouted after her, "Oscar is truly blessed, Celia, to have someone like you as his intended wife."

Again, she laughed a little, now leaning against the doorframe, "You're too kind. But I wish that God had thought about blessing me a little before he went and put this idea in my father's head." She sighed and turned.

Gabriel laughed at that; how fitting that she brought his Father into the conversation. "Celia." She looked back at him. "I'll see you again."

She looked confused for a moment, and then shook her head ruefully, "I doubt that, Sir. Farewell."

Gabriel turned to look back out at the night sky. He felt excited and downhearted at the same time. Perhaps this feeling was what his friend Will was always going on about. Love. Or, certainly infatuation at the very least. He watched the stars twinkling above him, a plan slowly forming in his mind.

(later)

Lying in her bed, Celia became aware of a noise outside her window. The rose bushes near her balcony were shaking more than she would have expected, as the wind was not strong at all. Pulling her nightgown around her, she stepped cautiously towards the window.

"Celia! Celia! Please, can you help me?" She knew that voice, she'd heard it somewhere before. "I know that rosebushes are a good choice aesthetically, but it's making this a lot harder. Ow!" She opened the doors, stepping onto the balcony.

"Please, I'm not joking, I need you to pull me up."

She placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp as she saw the man she'd met at the party hanging precariously from the trellis, which was creaking and groaning under the strain.

"Gabriel? What are you doing? If my Father finds you here, you'll be in such big trouble; I'll be in such big trouble."

With a little effort, and the beheading of many newly budded rose flowers, Celia managed to pull Gabriel over the balcony. He landed in a shower of red petals. Celia was overcome with panic, and started pacing backwards and forwards, hands on hips. "No, no, no. This is not a good idea. Really not a good idea."

Gabriel smiled and leaned back against the balcony, picking a stray petal from his clothing. She stared at him, "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged and she glared at him, "I wanted to see you."

His matter of fact reaction infuriated her and, in her rage, she hit his arm, standing in front of him, "Who would try to climb through somebody's bedroom window without having an extraordinarily good reason for doing so? Are you out of your mind?"

Seeing that things were not panning out quite as he had planned, Gabriel stepped forward and grasped her arms, "Yes, that's it. I am out of my mind. Out of my mind thinking about you, Celia. I needed to see you."

She pulled her nightdress tighter around herself and looked down so that he wouldn't see the small smile that crept to her lips. Regaining her composure she looked at him, shaking her head, "You are really not like other men."

He nodded, she was perfectly right, of course. Suddenly uncomfortable, not knowing what to say, Gabriel looked down at his shoes. He really wished he'd spoken to Will before doing this, he always knew what to say to women. He was surprised when she stepped closer to him, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him backwards.

"I appreciate the gesture, I really do. But you have to go now. You don't know what they'll do if they find you here." She pushed him until his back was against the balcony, but still she didn't remove her hands.

Gabriel looked down at her, seeing her cheeks glowing slightly pink in the growing pale light of dawn, "I'll go, but I want to know when I can see you again."

At this she did drop her hands, sighing and shaking her head, "You can see me at the church in five days time. That is when I am to be married."

He took hold of her hand and softly placed a kiss against it, "That sounds awfully dull. When can I see you again, alone?"

Celia smiled at him, "Well, I'm not often alone. And, it would be highly inappropriate for me to be with you unescorted after all."

He laughed against her hand, still grasping it firmly, "You're alone with me now, and nothing inappropriate has happened. Maybe I should just stay a little longer."

Completely aware of the magnitude of what she was doing; disobeying her father, she found herself stepping closer to the strange man who had somehow found his way onto her balcony. Her hands found his chest again and she raised her head, tilting her face towards his.

Gabriel stroked her cheek gently, holding the side of her face and leaning towards her, "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Celia."

She felt her cheeks burn, and was thankful for the dim light as it would hide her no doubt crimson face, "Don't say that."

His lips brushed the side of her face, so softly she felt she might have imagined it, "I never felt love until I saw you tonight." He whispered in her ear.

"Don't. Don't lie."

"How can it be a lie, when love is what I feel when I look at you?"

Part of her did not trust this silver-tongued man; a man she had met only once before this moment. The other part encouraged her to rise onto the tips of her toes and to press her lips gently against his.

Pulling away, Gabriel looked at her seriously, "When can I come back and see you?"

Celia groaned in frustration, "Tomorrow. Come tomorrow night." Again, she leaned towards him.

Gabriel grinned at her, and with a quick kiss on the lips he began to pull himself back over the balcony, "Until tomorrow then."

She watched his descent to the garden below, smiling; hands covering her mouth each time he slipped, "Be careful." Finally, he was down and retreating across the garden, to the safety of the taller trees, waving as he went.

Turning and heading back into her bedroom, Celia placed a hand over her pounding heart. She couldn't help but smile as she crawled back under the bedclothes. He made her feel like that everything would end well, despite evidence to the contrary. She fell asleep for the first time in a long time, with no niggling thoughts of her marriage plaguing her dreams; only the excitement caused by thoughts of tomorrow night keeping her awake a few moments longer.

(the next day)

Gabriel seated himself at the table, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "Will, I'm in love."

The man he was addressing looked up momentarily, sighed, took a swig from his tankard and pulled out a notebook, "What did you do?"

Gabriel shook his head; "I met a girl last night. I'm seeing her again tonight."

Will rubbed a hand over his face, nodding, "Yes, and what's her name?"

"Celia Faircroft."

Will waved his hands in the air, looking about them surreptitiously, "Keep your voice down man! Did you say Faircroft? You need to be carerful, Gabe. Word has it she's already spoken for."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "I know that. The question is how does one go about stopping a marriage?"

"Stop it? Are you mad? You can't stop it, and her father will have your guts for garters if you try. Listen, how did you even meet her?"

Gabriel looked around the bustling alehouse; "I met her at a party. That's not the best bit though." Will looked at him, eyebrows raised, quill poised over his notebook, "I climbed onto her balcony last night. Through the rosebushes and everything."

His friend gasped and clutched his chest, barely containing his laughter, "You did what? Oh God, Gabe, I get all my best ideas from you." He scribbled madly in his notepad, muttering to himself in verse.

Gabriel watched him, shaking his head slightly, quite certain that Will was at least a little mad, "But what do I do Will? I love her."

Will gulped down the rest of his ale and stood up, "You stop being so foolish is what you do. She's spoken for, Gabe. Move on." Will moved towards the door, placing a cap on his head, "I mean it Gabe. Be careful. Nothing good can come of this."

(that night)

As he squeezed through the bushes into the Faircroft estate, Gabe's mood was darkened somewhat thinking about Will's words. His face lit up with a smile again when he saw Celia standing on her balcony, dressed in her white nightgown, hair rippling slightly in the wind.

His climb up the rosebush was faster this time, spurred on as he was by the thought of having her near him again. As he approached the top and started to swing himself over the stonework he felt her hands clutching at him desperately, tugging him over and into her arms.

She stood for a while, face buried in his chest, shoulders shaking as she cried silently. He patted her back, and smoothed her hair back behind her ears, "Am I late or something? Did you think I wouldn't come? I mean, I can see how that would be upsetting…"

"Gabriel, father knows you were here last night. I don't know how, someone must have seen you. He's arranged the wedding for tomorrow, and after that I am to leave with Oscar."

Gabriel felt his teeth clench together, Oscar was starting to get on his nerves, "Don't worry yourself about that, Celia. I'll take care of everything." He could feel his anger growing. As much as he had enjoyed fitting in, having a normal life for awhile, he simply could not let this wedding go ahead.

He was jolted out of his reveries of running Oscar through with a rusty dagger by a pounding on Celia's bedroom door. "It's my mother!" Celia was staring at the door, shaking her head, "Please, go. Now. Before they find you."

Gabriel grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him, "Close your eyes."

Celia was confused, but for lack of a better plan she went along with his request, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

He stared at her, _one click of the fingers, that's all it takes, _he thought. _One click and you give up everything that's even slightly normal about your life. _Sighing, he raised his hand and clicked.

When Celia opened her eyes, she was standing in a bright white room. She'd never seen so much marble before. In the centre was a huge table, with various ornaments placed on top. The only exit or entrance she could see was a set of double doors at one end of the room. She stared at the man in front of her.

"You're some kind of devil, aren't you?"

Gabriel blinked and looked at her, narrowing his eyes, "No, I'm not, but that kind of thing does run in my family."

She backed away from him, shaking her head, "Oh God, help me."

"I think you'll find he just did. In a way."

Celia could not understand what he was saying, "Who are you really? Please tell me."

He sighed, turning his back and looking at a painting mounted over the fireplace, "I've been trying to be someone different for such a long time now that I'd almost forgotten." The painting showed a winged man, holding a sword, devastating the land and the people swarming beneath him. " I'm still Gabriel."


	5. Doppelganger edited

Summary: Kind of Cas/OC, very slight romantic undertones. Starts out with strong violence. No smut again, I'm all smutted out as I'm struggling to finish a collection of erotica at the moment. But, have no fear the smut will return eventually; I just have to find some more. I'm on holiday for awhile from tomorrow, but will post again soon. As always, let me know what you think.

Author note: EDITED. Thanks to a review, I've realised that this was more holey than swiss cheese.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural related. Katie is mine.

DOPPELGANGER

Katie was surprised how little pain there was. Sure, the first punch had hurt, and the second, and the third, but now all she felt were the vibrations as bone met bone. A flourish, a starburst of red and white shot across her eyelids, swelling them closed for good. A sharp jolt of pain as she felt her nose wetly snap and click into an unnatural position. All her senses were limited now, only the salty, metallic taste of blood running down her throat and the dull thud as each punch connected, told her that he was still hitting her. Of course, she'd cried at first, asked why he was doing it; but now everything felt a million miles away. As she let her head slump back against the damp brickwork, she was distantly aware of another dull thudding echoing in her ears. She thought that maybe he'd started kicking her instead; maybe his hands were tired. Just before the mist of unconsciousness mercifully shut down her last connections with the waking world, she heard a voice.

"Cas, you son of a bitch, what have you done?" Dean barely recognised her, he knelt in front of the girl, unsure whether to touch her. _Her face, God, her face._ "Cas, miracle now!" He pointed at her, staring at the man behind him.

"I can't." Dean glared at the monosyllabic angel.

"Excuse me? Yes, you fucking can, you dick. She's dying. You turned her fucking face to hamburger. Sort it out!" He was face to face with the trench-coated man now, but the angel wasn't looking at him.

He was contemplating his hands, clenching them and watching the blood shine and pool in the ridges of his knuckles. Even more fascinating to him was the sharp piece of enamel sticking out of the soft flesh on the side of his hand. He picked the pearl-like body part out of his skin and flicked it aside.

Dean stared at him, stunned. _What the fuck just happened? _He thought. Shaking his head he knelt and gingerly picked up the comatose girl. He winced as her shredded face fell against his shoulder. "Screw you then, I'll find someone else who can help her."

He left the alley, jogging slowly back to the Impala. People around him, pedestrians and casual Christmas shoppers, gasped as they saw her. A child wailed as a drop of sticky dark blood landed in a fat ruby blob by his feet. Feeling concerned for the car seats, and then feeling sick for being such a prick, Dean carefully eased Katie into the front seat. As he did her seat belt up her head lolled horribly forwards, gore dripping into her lap.

He almost, almost screamed when he heard her groan. _No, God, please don't let her wake up now. Not when she looks like this._ He stabilised himself against the driver's side door, struggling to keep the bile in his stomach, before jumping in and gunning the engine, heading for the nearest hospital.

"So, where are you going with the girl tonight, Dean". The ingratiating, smarmy voice pierced Dean's eardrums like a pneumatic drill. He stared at Zachariah in the rear-view mirror.

"I'm taking her to a hospital."

"Well, I could help, you know." Zachariah's smile was wide.

"If you're going to help then just cut the foreplay." Dean snapped.

The angel spread his arms and shrugged, "You know the deal, Dean; all you have to do is say yes to Michael and we can sort this little incident out right now." Leaning forward on his seat and peering at the girl he smiled, "It would be a real shame not to, wouldn't it? She was very pretty, for a human."

Something clicked into place in Dean's mind, something he hadn't wanted to think about, "This was your plan from the start, wasn't it? Cas's still working for you. You got him to do this, so you could bribe me."

"You give him too much credit, Dean. Castiel is an outcast, when we find him, we'll kill him. Fortunately for us, his little indiscretion has presented us with a wonderful opportunity." He smirked, horribly, leaning back against the leather.

"Answer's no". Dean pulled into the hospital grounds, swerving the car to the right and towards the ER.

"Now Dean, don't be too hasty. Do you really think they're going to be able to help her?"

The hunter threw his door open, before turning back to the angel, "You'd better hope they can, you douche. The answer's no, asshole."

Hooked up to several machines, Katie couldn't breathe, eat or piss for herself. Things were looking just peachy. Dean buried his face in his hands; it meant he didn't have to look at her. Her face looked worse; now, it was just a mass of swelling, features barely discernible amongst the rainbow of colours that had claimed the territory of her skin. Very slowly, Dean was coming to terms with the fact that Katie would not be leaving the hospital without some kind of angelic assistance. _It's just a shame that none of the bastards are willing to help. _

"Word has it that you're in need of some healing hands."

Dean turned and immediately hid his face again, mumbling, "Just what I need." Finally, looking up he met the newcomer's eyes, "Hello, Gabriel."

"Hello Dean. Woah!" the archangel mimed heaving into a bucket, "not so pretty now." He pointed at Katie.

"Is this funny to you?" Dean knew he couldn't take on an archangel in a fist fight, but he was getting to the point where he'd be willing to give it a go.

"You're so melodramatic Dean. I mean, all I have to do is work a bit of magic and she'll be back to normal. No harm done." Keeping his eyes on the hunter, Gabriel moved to the bedside, hand hovering over Katie's forehead.

Dean closed his eyes again and rested his head on his hand.

"Although," inwardly, Dean groaned, "how much thought have you given to this whole Michael thing? How bad could it be, really?"

"How about very bad." Dean mumbled.

"I don't think so. I mean, you say yes to Mikey, right, and then Lucifer's gonna be in a real rush trying to find a vessel. Sam will say no, meaning Lucifer will pick a weaker vessel. They fight, Michael wins, the end."

Dean stared at the archangel.

"Dean, where have you been? I've been trying to locate you for hours. I need to speak to Katie urgently."

The hunter stared incredulously at the man who was now standing in the doorway. Castiel looked confused, and not even slightly repentant. He looked like everything was normal. Dean felt the anger start to rise, like bile, from his stomach. "You're a real piece of work, Cas. Do you need to speak to her like you did earlier?" He pointed at the bed, "She's right there, where you put her."

The angel glanced at the bed and the figure lying in it, "What happened?"

"What happened?" Dean repeated. "You're kidding, right?"

Cas continued to look confused.

"You happened, you miserable bastard, did you forget?"

"Woah, boys, boys. There's no need for this. Remember this can all be sorted out, just say the word." Gabriel had maintained his position by the bed.

Dean sighed turning his back on Cas, "Yeah, go ahead. Do it."

"With the greatest respect, it's not me you need to say yes to, Dean."

"Cut the Michael bullshit, Gabe. Just do it." When the archangel did nothing, Dean narrowed his eyes, slowly turning to walk back to his seat, "Gabriel, where were you earlier on this evening? I mean, how did you even know about this?" He regarded the man carefully.

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender, "Hey, I'm just here to help, remember. I can go if you want me to."

"Just answer the question, Gabe."

The archangel tilted his head, a small smile slowly spreading across his face, "Fine, you got me." Swiftly he changed; morphing into a good approximation of the other angel in the room; his eyes were slightly the wrong colour and the tan trench-coat was more crumpled than it was in reality; and then changed back again. And then again, the man shimmered, vibrating the air around him as Dean watched, stunned. The man standing in front of them was very familiar; and Dean scowled at the bald headed, sharp suited bastard.

" I'm hurt that you don't look surprised that it's me." Zachariah shrugged and looked down at the girl. " Of course. This was never about her; I didn't enjoy doing that. It was the only way we could think of to make you take some damn responsibility, Dean. Luckily for you both, this ends here." He placed his hands on Katie's forehead and instantly the swelling started to go down and the bruising started to retreat across her face like the tide going out. Zachariah looked at the two men, "There, all back to normal. No harm done."

Quickly he stepped up to a shocked Castiel and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Although, I guess this is going to make things a little tricky for you. After all, the last memory she has is of you stoving her face in with your bare hands. We''ll be seeing you again soon, Cas." Shrugging, he laughed, before swiftly exiting the room.

(later)

She knew he was standing behind her; and despite knowing the facts she felt the familiar tingle of fear ease down her spine. It had been two months since she came out of hospital and he had kept a low profile since then, only talking to the boys and giving her space. She thanked him for that quietly. She hadn't really expected him to stay away today. Slowly, she folded the last top and closed her suitcase, turning to face him.

"You don't have to go, Katie. I can understand that this is difficult for you, but you know the truth and you'll find that this will get better with time."

Katie smiled at him, "Cas, I spoke to Dean, I do know the truth. I know it wasn't you. But, it's not getting better…" She swallowed heavily, a lump was forming in her throat and she knew the tears would soon follow. "I still have nightmares about it Cas, and even though I know it wasn't you, it's your face I see everytime. You can't understand what that's like. "

He stared at her, unblinking, "It wasn't me."

"The truth is Cas, I don't care. I'm just so tired of all of this. I nearly died, and I'm sick of being used as a pawn in whatever game you guys are playing. That's why I'm going."

He looked at her with that wounded, down-cast, puppy dog look he did, or his vessel did, so well. She'd always been a sucker for that kind of look, but as she ruefully thought back over her recent past she knew that her weakness where men were concerned had caused most of her problems. First Dean, because he looked so cute when he pouted and then Cas, with that damn look of his.

Grabbing her bag and stepping forwards she stopped just in front of him, "Please, move out of the way, Cas."

He did, without a second thought, keeping his eyes firmly fixed to the ground, "Don't go." His voice cracked slightly and she found herself surprised again by how human he had become in the time she had known him.

Standing on tip-toes she placed a kiss on his cheek, smiling at him, "Cas, please don't take this the wrong way. I love you, but I hope I never see you again."


	6. Merry Christmas, Castiel

Merry Christmas, Castiel

Summary: It snowed where I am, and it's cold, so I thought I'd warm things up a little with this sweet Cas/OC Christmas story. Warning: The smut has returned.

Ellie watched as Dean placed the angel on top of the newly decorated Christmas tree, she smirked slightly as he tried to remain nonchalantly cool, dismissing the act as childish and nostalgic. Bobby, already drunk on too much punch, shouted at Dean to straighten the decidedly un-crooked winged figure, but he remained relatively calm when everybody ignored him. It was Dean's off-colour jibe about not wanting an angel on the Christmas tree anyway, in case it attracted one of the 'dicks with wings', that set Ellie off thinking about Castiel.

Dean and the angel had argued a couple of weeks ago, Ellie didn't know why, but by the look on Dean's face whenever Cas was mentioned she assumed it had been serious. They hadn't seen Cas since, which made Ellie sad. She knew he could be hurtful at times, but she felt that he rarely meant to be. He was obtuse and infuriating, yes, but Ellie missed him.

Sighing, Ellie made her way out on to the porch, wrapping her arms around herself and bracing herself against the cold. The silence was absolute; so quiet that she could almost hear the snow settling on the ground as it fell steadily, powdery drifts from a perfectly clear sky. Yet Ellie was still not happy; her mind wandered incessantly back to Castiel. When they'd first met she had found him massively annoying; always watching her, questioning her and taking everything she said too literally. Over time she had come to feel comfortable with him. She found his presence calming, and instead of annoying her his endless questions made her realise how odd much of human life must seem to him. Wistfully, she turned, ready to go back in and join the others. She was surprised to see him, leaning against the house. He looked the same, same trenchcoat, same tie, same confused expression as always. He was holding a long, flat white box. "Cas, where have you been?" She was sharper with him than usual, a part of her hoping he did not know she had been thinking about him.

He shifted slightly, looking down at the box in his hands. If she hadn't known better, Ellie would have sworn he looked almost guilty. Dismissing her thought she stepped closer to him, "Cas, I know you and Dean had a fight, but it will be ok. Please, just come in, we can talk to him together. He'll understand."

Cas shook his head slightly, and held the box out to her, placing it gently into her hands, "I came to see you."

Ellie looked at the box, "You got me a present?"

He nodded, "I assumed I should."

Slowly, she lifted the lid and pulled back the tissue paper covering the contents. She recognised what the pool of blue satin was immediately. A week ago, she had been wandering around the shops in one of the towns they were passing through, she had seen the dress and fallen in love with it. Dean had eventually pulled her away, saying she couldn't afford it and had nowhere to wear it anyway. Lifting her eyes, she stared at the angel.

"I was there, " Cas said, looking intently at his shoes, "I could see that you liked it and I thought it would look….nice."

Ellie bit her lip, "I didn't get you anything, Cas."

"I didn't expect you to."

She placed the box down on the chair by the front door, "Are you sure you won't come in? I don't want you to be alone on Christmas Eve."

He shook his head, still not looking at her.

Instinctively, she placed a hand on his arm and he finally raised his head, "Cas, come and see me later. I'm in the same room as usual. I won't tell anyone you were here."

Castiel nodded once and, with that, vanished leaving Ellie alone with the snow drifting slowly around her.

It was around 1 am when Ellie finally made it to her room. Castiel was already waiting, uncomfortably perched on the edge of the bed. She had brought her Christmas gifts upstairs in carrier bags, and nestled between these she had smuggled a bottle of wine and two glasses upstairs. She poured some of the red liquid into a glass and handed it to the angel, who looked at it, looked at her and then looked down at his shoes again. "What's wrong, Cas?"

"Nothing." His monotone answer was weak, uncertain. He swiftly raised himself from the bed, and turned to face her, still holding the wine.

Ellie laughed and took the glass, placing it on the bedside table, "Cas, relax! Here," she again placed a hand on his trench-coated arm, "take this off, you'll be more comfortable." She was shocked when he withdrew his arm, jerking away from her like he'd been electrocuted.

"I should go."

"Why?" Ellie sat on the bed, staring at him.

"Because it feels wrong being here. I feel things when I'm around you that I don't usually feel. Things I'm not supposed to feel. I think about you…" He stopped, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"Cas, it's not wrong to think and feel things."

He glared at her, "You don't know what I've been thinking, so how can you tell me it's not wrong? I should leave because it's unbearable being here with you."

Ellie felt like he'd just kicked her in the stomach, "Don't say that."

"I don't want to hurt you in any way, Ellie. I'm afraid what will happen if I give in to this."

"I'm not afraid, Cas. I want you to give in." She stood, moved closer to him.

Nodding, brow furrowed in determination, Castiel grasped his wine glass, downing its contents swiftly before removing his coat.

He was not gentle when he kissed her, as she had expected he would be. She tasted the metallic tang of wine as his mouth assaulted hers and his tongue found its way between her lips.

Castiel was surprised by how she responded, how her body pressed, moulded itself against his. He was surprised by how right it felt. He rewarded her with tenderness as he explored the sensitive spot just below her jaw bone with his lips. The skin here was soft, warm and fragile as he'd imagined it would be and he heard her moan softly as he moved his lips against her. He became dimly aware of her warm hands rubbing against the skin on his chest. She had untucked his shirt and moved her hands under his clothing. Following her example he pushed her top up slightly, feeling the smooth skin covering her hips.

Stepping away, Ellie looked at him, before tugging her top up and over her head. She was delighted when Cas quickly caught on, shedding his suit jacket and shirt. It continued this way, with her leading, until the pair were naked against each other, lying underneath the bed covers. Her skin tingled at being so close to him, every inch of her body pressed as tightly to him as she could manage. The angel was still mapping out her skin with his lips; his kisses were tentative and exploratory. She sensed that even now he was afraid to venture too far below her neck. Thinking to lead by example again, Ellie pushed herself closer, kissing his strong jaw and then down his neck. Placing soft kisses against his chest, she felt him relax slightly. Gently she took one nipple into her mouth and ran her tongue over it. He groaned, and faster than she had imagined possible, he was on top of her pinning her down with his body, staring into her eyes. She shifted slightly under him, feeling his erection pressing against her, her own wetness threatening to draw him in. Ellie wondered if he realised how close he was.

Castiel felt like he was on the edge of something huge. He felt like he was about to fall into her and it frightened him that he didn't want to stop. It frightened him that the last thing he wanted to do was pull away from her.

Ellie could see that he was conflicted, she could see the fear in his eyes. Placing a hand on his face she whispered, "Castiel, you don't have to do this. There's no rush. I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

In the dim light Castiel stared into Ellie's moss-green eyes, noted for the first time the constellation of pale freckles on the bridge of her nose. There was concern etched across her features, but Cas could tell by her flushed cheeks and her lips parted in anticipation that she desperately wanted him to continue.

In the silent moments that passed between them, Ellie became aware of her surroundings. The familiar slightly fusty smell of the sheets in Bobby's spare room, which now covered her and her angelic lover, reminded her of a time when she had been young and inexperienced. Smelling the aftershave, which deep down she knew belonged to Jimmy and not to Cas, brought the absurdity of the situation into stark relief. Fidgeting slightly under his weight, she tried to break the silence, "Cas, are you alright? We can stop."

Castiel was remembering the night, a few months ago, when he had first distinctly thought about being in this situation with Ellie. She had been reading by the fire in the lobby of a huge old hotel the Winchester's were staying in. It had been a touch of luxury that Ellie in particular had enjoyed. Cas had always been fascinated by the amount of time humans spent, buried in books, immersed in other worlds so far removed from their own. He could read, of course, or at least he understood that words had symbolic meaning. It had been Ellie who helped him understand the emotions; the connection with the characters that a reader needed to remain embroiled in the story. He'd seen her reading before, but this time she'd been making notes with a pencil around the margins of what appeared to be small verses, set out very much like Biblical script. She had allowed him to sit and look at her notes as she recited the poems for him. This was her favourite poet, she'd said, and she really had no need to see the words; they were all in her head. The collection had been of John Donne's poetry, and as she spoke the lines, Cas had gathered from Ellie's notations that much of the man's beautiful sounding verse was diabolically sexual in nature. Surreptitiously, Castiel had begun to sneak glances at Ellie's lips as she spoke the words and he had been decidedly hot under the collar by the time she'd finished. From that moment, images and ideas that he'd never entertained before had been seared into his brain; all of them erotic and all of them involving Ellie.

Ellie panicked at first as, inch by inch, she felt Cas sliding into her. She doubted he had even noticed but for her it was excruciatingly slow. Feeling her walls clench around him, Ellie bit down on her lip drawing blood, desperately trying to stop herself from bucking her hips against him.

A small moan from underneath him brought Cas back into the moment, and he looked at Ellie properly again, "I want to continue, but I don't know what to do."

Ellie raised up onto her elbows, placing a small kiss against the angel's chapped lips. With one hand on the small of his back she pushed him the final few inches until their hips met. She was finally satisfied, finally felt full, every sense was devoted to him alone.

Castiel needed no further guidance as he felt her warmth envelope him. Instantly, he began to meet her hips again and again as he set a fast pace of thrusts. His lips again found their way to that sacred spot just below her jaw, but this time he was forceful, grazing and nibbling the delicate skin with his teeth. Her moans only spurred him on as he pinned her hands to the bed, kissing down her neck, leaving a trail of red marks where he'd nipped her skin. Finally, unafraid, he kissed the swell of one breast gently, then took the red bud of a nipple into his mouth flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He heard her gasp and felt her hips jerk underneath him; he didn't think it was possible, but with that one small movement, he felt himself slide deeper inside her and she moaned in pleasure. Grasping her hip and pulling it closer to him he began to thrust into her more aggressively. She felt tight, and Cas knew that there was pain as well as pleasure for her, but he also knew that she liked it. So, he relentlessly worked himself against her. He watched as the covers fell away from the top half of her body; her pale skin was almost translucent in the semi-darkness. Cas found himself wanting to mark her, as he had inadvertently done to Dean, to burn his claim over her into her skin. For now, he would remain happy to claim her physically, as he dominated her totally, moving too fast for her to do anything but lie helplessly under him. He knew she wouldn't last much longer, and he wanted to try something he had been imagining.

Ellie watched the angel as he pulled out of her and let him turn her onto her side, her back pressed against him. Even though Cas entered her slowly, Ellie always found this angle painful and she gasped, clenching her teeth against the sharp sting as he pressed into her. Cas did not stop, instead once again pressing her hip closer against him and forcing her head down into the pillows with one hand on her shoulder. His thrusts were languid at first, opening her up, teasing her by pulling out totally and sliding in again, each entrance as painfully sweet as it was the first time. She felt his lips on her back, slowly burning a hot trail between her shoulder blades. Each time his lips lifted and moved to another spot she heard him whisper her name. She couldn't speak as he picked up his pace, pressing her harder into the pillows. She attempted to move her hips in unison with his, but he was too fast and so she just tilted her head back against him, moaning his name as he moved his kisses along her neck. Ellie felt herself start to shake, and in response Cas simply tightened his arms around her. "Cas, please, I can't …".

He wrapped an arm gently around her neck, pulling her upper body against him whilst violently pounding into her three more times. The intensity of the angel's strokes inside her, caused Ellie to cry out as she fell over the edge. Castiel had to place a hand over her mouth for fear that her cries would wake the brothers. Ellie screamed against the palm of his hand, and finally coming down, she burrowed her head into the pillows.

Afterwards Ellie lay in the angel's arms, unable to stop smiling. Cas was his old self again, quietly whispering questions to her whilst he stroked her slightly damp hair. As she fell asleep against his chest, she placed a kiss on his smooth skin, whispering, "Merry Christmas, Castiel."


	7. The Caretaker

The Caretaker

Note: This is a bit of a twist on the Tall Tales episode. Charlie flees the scene before Dean and Sam can get to him, but he feels that he has to square things away with his new friend at Crawford Hall first.

May shoved the door of her office open, rushing to dump the pile of precariously balanced books she'd been carrying on her desk. She wasn't surprised to find the box of chocolates, nestled amongst the papers in her in-tray. Charlie always left her something after he tidied her room each night. May had only recently moved into Crawford Hall and the young caretaker was the friendliest person she'd met so far. The professors and senior lectures who frequented the other offices seemed to look down their noses at her as they passed her in the corridors. Although Charlie was doing nothing for her waist-line at least he spoke to her.

She absentmindedly leafed through the papers in her tray as the computer loaded up. The building was eerily quiet that morning and the hum and whir of the computer seemed louder than usual. Opening her emails she trawled through the endless administrative notices asking politely that she not walk on the grass outside the Weyland building, as new turf had been laid, amongst other things. Someone in HR needed to borrow a ruler, apparently. The last unread message was from the Dean, which was unusual in and of itself. She clicked and read:

It is with great sadness that I write to inform you all of the recent death of Professor Cox. He was found, following what appears to have been a tragic accident, on the steps of Crawford Hall late last night by the caretaker. A service will be held on 15th October at 7pm in the chapel.

May, despite her best efforts, was struggling to drum up much sadness. The man had been a complete ass, and, considering that her office was right next door to his he had said no more than three words to her since she'd moved into the building. Sighing she stood up and made her way to the door, walking silently down the staircase listening intently for the sound of Charlie whistling as he cleaned the hallways. She found him in the basement, slamming his locker shut; he grinned at her as he turned around. "Hello, Doc. What are you doing here so early? Couldn't sleep, huh, guess you must have had a wild night too?"

May shook her head as the caretaker grabbed his broom, preparing to move past her and start the day, "I got the email about Professor Cox. It said you found him. I just wanted to see if you were ok."

Charlie placed a hand over his heart, "You were worried about me? I'm touched, Doc."

She rolled her eyes and turned, heading towards the door that lead back to the stairwell. "I'll take that as an 'I'm absolutely fine' then, shall I?"

Before she could figure out how he had moved so fast he was walking backwards up the stairs in front of her, arms spread wide in surrender, "No, I'm not fine at all. I'm deeply traumatised and I need a shoulder to cry on. Please don't leave me in my time of need, Doc." She tried to push past him, but he moved ahead of her, still moving up the stairs, "How about lunch? You can listen to the whole horrible story then."

May looked at her watch; she needed to get back to her office. "I can't really today, Charlie."

"Yes, you can. You don't eat enough, you'll fade away. I'll see you at your office at about 12; I'll bring food. Deal?" He was already moving swiftly away down the corridor.

She shouted after him, "Yes, ok. But Charlie, please don't just bring cake!"

(later)

May stared at the half-finished research paper in front of her. She wasn't sure whether it was a work of genius or whether it made no sense whatsoever and she would be a laughing stock if she even thought about showing it to anyone. She glanced at her watch; 12:05, her stomach grumbled in frustration and hunger. Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door. "Come in Charlie, you're five whole minutes late. "

It was not Charlie who stuck his head round the door. Instead two men entered. The first, dark-haired with boyish good looks, said nothing instead just moving into the room and throwing her his best charming grin. May stared at him and smiled back, "Yes, is there something I can help you with?"

It was the taller one who answered, "Hi, yeah, the building's due to be rewired soon, and we're just checking things out. Do you mind if we take a look round the office?"

May's attention had already been drawn back towards the words on the screen in front of her, she waved her hand absentmindedly, "Yeah sure, be my guest." From time to time she glanced up at what the two men were doing; the taller of the two seemed to be checking the power points with some kind of weird device that made very strange noises. The other one didn't really appear to be doing much of anything, just standing with his hands in his pockets and looking around the room. He smiled at her again as she caught his eye. May frowned, "Y'know if you guys want to know where all the power points are you can just go speak to Charlie. He's the caretaker. He'll have blueprints for the building. It might make your job a bit quicker."

"Did someone mention my name?" Charlie popped his head round the door, "Oh, hey guys." He glanced at the two men and smiled. "Good to see you're managing to find your way around."

May relaxed slightly once it was obvious that Charlie knew them, she'd been starting to think that they were just casing the joint. She peered into the white paper bags that Charlie had placed down on her desk, "Wow Charlie, I'm impressed. There is not a single cake in sight."

The shorter man stepped forwards and grinned at her, pointing at the wall, "So, you're in the office next door to that guy who died, right? Charlie was telling us about it earlier. Creepy, huh?"

May stared at him, "I didn't know him that well". She glanced at the other man, "Would you mind coming back a bit later? We're having lunch." She watched the two men make a swift retreat from the room. Charlie was staring at her, looking a bit confused.

The rest of the meal continued in silence, which was unusual. Charlie could see that something was bothering May, and he didn't want to push his luck with his usual jokes. May kept thinking back to the rust coloured stain she'd noticed on the steps that morning as she entered the building; she'd only just linked the Professor's death and the stain in her mind, and she shuddered visibly. When Charlie stood to leave she barely acknowledged him; he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze and left the office. May typed distractedly for the rest of the afternoon, and it was only when the room darkened and she heard the last office door close on her floor that she packed up her own things.

Standing on the entrance steps of Crawford Hall, May pulled her coat more tightly around her and began to make her way in the general direction of home, being careful not to look at the stain on the stone steps as she descended. She jumped slightly when she heard a bang behind her, but when she turned to look it was just Charlie locking the building up. He smiled at her as he shoved his keys in his pocket and came to stand beside her. "Hey Doc, can I walk you home?" She stared at him, he'd never offered before and she was on the verge of saying no when she realised that she desperately did not want to walk back across campus on her own. "That would be great, Charlie. But, only if it's not too far out of your way."

He held a hand out in front of him, "Lead the way."

Feeling relieved she took a step towards the postgraduate centre, beyond that was a little path that led onto a residential street and beyond that was her small terraced house. She smiled when she felt Charlie fall in step beside her and link his arm through her own.

(later)

"There you go, Doc. Delivered safe and sound, right to your front door." May looked up at the caretaker and smiled. Suddenly, she was reminded of that awkward teenage moment when a boy had just walked you home and you were unsure of whether that meant you should kiss him. Luckily for her it was Charlie who stepped away from her first, he moved away slowly, walking backwards.

"Listen, Doc. You probably won't see me at work tomorrow, or well, you probably won't see me at work again at all."

May stared at him, half-smiling, "What do you mean?"

Charlie stopped, looking down at his feet and then back up at her shiftily, "Today was my last day. I'm moving on."

"Why?" It was all she could think of to say.

The man smiled and laughed slightly, stepping back towards her, "I've been cleaning floors for a long time now, May. I think it's time for a change."

May suddenly felt like bursting into tears, but she knew that would be ridiculous and Charlie would find it hilarious and would probably laugh at her, which would be even worse than what she was feeling now. How had she managed to get so attached to him in only a month?

As she'd expected Charlie attempted to make light of the situation, again he placed a hand over his heart and laughed, "You _do_ care, Doc. I never realised you felt like this..."

May shook her head as a tear rolled down her face, "Don't you dare laugh at me." For the first time Charlie looked a little unsure of himself. He frowned at her. "I hope you're happy wherever you end up, Charlie."

"Oh come on, May. Don't be like this. You're a friend, I just want to say goodbye. Come for a drink with me." He stepped towards her, hand stretched out as if to grab her arm.

Before he could reach her, May had opened her front door and slammed it again in his face, leaning heavily against it as the tears freely rolled down her face.

Charlie leaned his head against the door, speaking softly, "Please May, open the door and speak to me." There was no answer and he rolled his eyes, "May, open the door. I just want to talk. Don't make me come in there." When he received no answer he moved back from the door and glared at it. He did not like being ignored. Realising that he was probably about to make a terrible mistake he sighed and clicked his fingers once.

He was standing in the hallway behind her. Her back was to him and her head was against the door. Her shoulders were moving up and down as she cried softly. Charlie stepped forwards cautiously, "Listen Kiddo, when you turn around I'm really gonna need you to not panic."

May stiffened and slowly turned until she was facing him. Sensing what was about to happen Charlie moved quickly towards her, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. "Shh, shh, please, May. I can explain everything but I just need you to promise not to scream for five minutes." Her eyes were wide, but she nodded her head and he let his hand drop.

"How did you get in?" Her voice was a quiet whisper as she stared at him.

"Good question. Well, I can go wherever I want really. I'll show you, where do you want to go?"

"Take me back to Crawford Hall." Charlie looked at her incredulously.

"You can go anywhere in the world and you want to go back to work. You're a strange woman."

"At the moment I think you're insane and possibly very dangerous. Let's start small." May spat back. Charlie smiled at that and raised his hand, "Crawford Hall it is." He clicked once.

May took a quick look at her surroundings, but it was obvious they were standing in her shadow filled office. She noticed the fresh box of chocolates in the tray on her desk. She looked back at Charlie, who looked quite smug, "Not insane then." She murmured. "Talk."

"Well, basically, I like to play pranks on people, y'know tricks. Do you remember all those strange things that kept happening on campus, before Professor Cox died?" May nodded. "Well, that was me."

"And Professor Cox?" May stared at him. "Was that you too?"

"Yes, that was me." Charlie did not meet her eye when he said it.

"Murder is not a prank, Charlie. What the hell are you?" May moved away from him slightly, backing up towards her desk.

He glared at her then, a look she'd never seen before, "I'm not human, that's all you need to know." He started moving towards her.

"Then why have you been so kind to me?" Her question seemed to stop him in his tracks.

Slowly he began to move towards her again, pushing her back against the desk and running a hand through her hair. May felt the desk dig painfully into the small of her back and she winced. "You're a good person, May. I never meant for you to get mixed up in all of this."

"Charlie, you're scaring me." Her breathing was shallow; she'd never been this close to him before and she didn't feel entirely uncomfortable, which scared her.

He moved away from her slightly, moving a hand around to place between her back and the desk. He rested his head against her forehead and sighed, "Those men who were in your office today. They know about me. They're here to kill me." He continued to stroke the side of her face, gently.

"We won't let them, Charlie. We'll just call the police." She knew that was insane. Knew the whole situation was insane.

He smiled and shook his head, forehead still leaning against hers, "They're very good at their job, May. They'll get to me eventually."

She realised that fresh tears were rolling down her cheeks again, "Then you should go. I won't tell them anything."

He grazed his lips against her cheek, softly before stepping away from her, "Thanks May." He backed away, eyes still locked on hers, "Don't be too sad, Doc. I'll see you again someday. You know I can't stay away." With that he raised his hand, clicked once, and was gone.


	8. The Caretaker: Part Two

The Caretaker: Part Two

Note: Ok, someone said that Gabe/Charlie should meet May later on (after the first part of this story) so this is it. So, there's been a war between Heaven and Hell, the angels won, but Zac's idea of paradise on earth leaves a lot to be desired. The humans are basically slaves, just trying to survive. What happens when Gabe finds May again? (Smut, that's what.)

May looked up from the table she was clearing for a moment to peer around the packed club. _So, this is paradise_, she thought silently, chewing the inside of her cheek in thought. The war between Heaven and Hell was over and the angels walked amongst them freely now. However, from what she could tell nothing much had changed. The world was still full of people drinking, eating, fighting and fucking too much, except now those people were powerful, immortal beings instilled with a sense of holy righteousness and the ones that often found themselves on the receiving end of their excesses were people like her, humans. She remembered being relieved, happy even, when the angels had finally expelled the last demon and defeated Lucifer. After everything she'd lived through, everything she'd seen, she'd believed that paradise on Earth couldn't be such a bad thing. She had been so wrong. Humans had become slaves; many of them had joined the angels, providing the women, drugs and alcohol they wanted in return for safety and fair treatment, but the vast majority lived in fear and had just tried to keep their heads down and stay out of trouble.

She picked up two glasses and headed back towards the bar. Placing them down on the wooden surface, she picked up a cold glass of water and took a sip. Many of the other girls took the opportunity of free alcohol that working in a bar granted them, choosing to walk around in a happy, drunken daze so that they did not have to see the harsh reality around them. May was different, she hadn't touched a drop since the angels had won; she just needed to stay unnoticed and for that she needed to stay clear-headed, so no alcohol for her.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, May turned slowly, only to have a foul gust of cigarette smoke blown into her face. _Ah, another fine habit they've succumbed to_, she thought as her eyes watered ferociously and the smoke poured into her lungs causing her to cough until she was sure she could taste the salty tang of blood on her tongue. The angel in front of her was looking at her with that odd mixture of curiosity and hatred they all shared when looking at humans, "You work here."

It was a statement, not a question, but May thought it was probably best to answer and make a quick escape, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry though, I can't talk now, we're about to close and I have to clear the tables." She angled her body to slide past him, but her heart fell when she felt a strong hand close around her wrist.

"There are others who can clean up; I wish to speak to you." May had seen this kind of thing happen before, although she had hoped that she would always manage to fly under the radar. It made perfect sense really that they paid such unwanted attention to human women; angels had been massively repressed for millennia and now they were here on Earth with free reign to do anything with no consequences. The biggest problem was that they were unpredictable; they were not supposed to feel anything and yet, years here surrounded by human vices had rubbed off on them in some way; one minute they could be smiling and perfectly calm, the next they could be angry, flailing knives around and cursing drunkenly in Enochian. It was probably best, May thought, to just do as he said.

"It's nice to see you getting along so well with my friend, Elijah." On hearing the voice her eyes widened involuntarily, it was familiar to her, really familiar.

"Would you mind going away? I'd like to talk to her." That voice again. May allowed herself to glance to the side, and on doing so and catching a glimpse of her would-be rescuer, she instantly closed her eyes tight shut. She did know him, or had known him, a long time ago. Back when she was at Crawford Hall. He'd been the caretaker. Charlie. She risked looking back at the angel standing beside her, certain that she was about to see a long-lost friend eviscerated in front of her.

May was surprised when the angel, Elijah, backed down, nodding at Charlie and heading back into the throngs of people. She frowned and glanced back at Charlie. She knew from experience that he was not human, not in the strictest sense anyway. All he'd said was that he liked to play tricks on people, but she'd assumed he was at least a moderately powerful demon. Surely he was not powerful enough to intimidate an angel though.

"So, Doc, we should go." He raised his eyebrows at her and she nodded once, leading the way behind the bar and towards the fire door, stopping only to collect her coat from her locker. Once outside May felt her chest ache as the cold air hit her. The ringing in her ears from the loud music in the club buzzed annoyingly, making her head ache.

Suddenly Charlie had his hands around her upper arms, she realised dimly that he was holding her quite tight and it hurt. He was shouting at her, "What were you doing working somewhere like that, May? Do you know how dangerous that is?" Why was he shouting at her? This was not what May had been imagining for so many years; she had daydreamed about Charlie coming back every day since he left and he hadn't shouted at her in any of her fantasies. He'd done lots of other things though, which made her blush now as she thought about them.

Sighing he backed away, dropping his hands from her arms, "You can't go back there. Please, come with me, I'll look after you."

May had so many questions spinning around her mind that she found herself unsure of which one to ask first. She knew there was something important about what had happened in the club between Charlie and Elijah, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, "Charlie, why did that angel listen to you? He looked terrified. Why would he be afraid of you?"

Charlie sighed, knowing that he was finally going to have to come clean. It was one of the many reasons that he had stayed away from May for so many years. He couldn't bear to have her turn away from him. He looked at her, "I promise you, I will explain everything. But not here, we need to get inside."

Despite her anger and disillusionment with him and his behaviour, May trusted Charlie and she didn't want to lose the opportunity to speak to him now that he was finally back. She nodded and fell into step beside him, smiling slightly when he looped his arm through hers.

May had never seen Charlie's flat when she was at Crawford, she had never seen Charlie outside of work. It was not what she had expected, and had she not known better she would have sworn that a woman lived with him. This flat was tidy, clean and well decorated. She'd never seen so much cake though, or bottles of wine, and she gasped audibly as she stepped through the front door. Thinking back to her own poky, damp apartment, where the wind on a night like this would be blowing through the badly fitted windows, she felt relieved that at least she would be warm tonight, even if the conversation she was about to have would be hugely uncomfortable for them both.

Charlie stepped past her and headed towards one of the doors at the back of the room, he was carrying her coat. "I'll put this in here, you can have this room." He turned to look at her in the doorway and then pointed at the mountain of cakes, "Eat something, May. You're skin and bones."

She looked down at herself and realised that he was right. Her wage at the club had been poor, and she had not been able to eat properly for a long time. She was embarrassed suddenly by the way she looked; by the way her hip bones jutted unhealthily through her jeans. She had had a much fuller figure when she was at Crawford Hall; she's been much happier in general then. When May looked back up she found Charlie staring at her from the doorway of her bedroom and she shifted uncomfortably, hoping that he didn't think she looked disgusting.

He sighed and walked towards her, "So, I owe you an explanation." He waved a hand towards the sofa, "Sit down. I'll get you a drink, you'll need it." He busied himself in the kitchen for awhile, whilst May sat with her hands in her lap, her fingers knotted together anxiously. When he returned he held a glass of wine out to her, and looked at her expectantly. Slowly she took it and drank. She had not had wine for a long time, and the liquid burned down her throat. The warm, fuzzy sensation it gave her in the pit of her stomach was pleasant though, so she drank more.

Charlie watched her for awhile, and then spoke. "So, I told you that I liked to play tricks on people. What I didn't tell you was that I've been playing those kinds of tricks for a long time. Six years at Crawford and thousands of years before that." He looked down at his own hands.

Maybe it was the wine, but May laughed slightly, "Well, you look good for your age then."

Charlie grinned at her, "Thanks, Doc. But, this isn't my body. Not really." May just looked at him until he continued.

"I started living amongst humans because I needed to... leave home. I was tired of my family arguing about ...stupid things. So, I came here and I just watched the people around me. I thought some of the things they said and did to each other were horrendous. So, I started playing pranks on them, dishing out just desserts I guess." When he fell silent, May reached out and took hold of his hand, pulling it gently into her lap.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, May." He sighed, and finally it all spilled out. "So, I left home and came here. Home before I came here was Heaven. My family were constantly arguing. My family before I came here were, primarily, Michael and Lucifer. I'm one of them. I'm an angel."

May pulled her hand away, standing up abruptly almost spilling the wine, "You're one of them? How could you be part of everything they've done here? How can you sit here, being so nice to me, when you're exactly like the rest of them?"

Charlie's face fell when she pulled away, and May was confused. He had feelings, obviously, that much was clear. But his reaction had been, well, human. "You should know that I had nothing to do with what Heaven did, May. I tried to stand up to my brothers, but in the end they were too strong and ..."

May looked at him and desperately wanted to throw her arms around him, he looked so apologetic. She sat down on the sofa and turned towards him, "Charlie, I'm sorry about my reaction. It's just...difficult. I've seen your kind being so cruel to people, and... I hate them. I don't even feel like I know you. I don't even know your real name." She sniffed, feeling tears threaten to spill onto her cheeks.

"My name's Gabriel." He said, gently. "You say that you hate my kind? Well, that's one thing we agree on."

May smiled, "I've missed you, Charlie."

"I've missed you, Gabriel." He parroted, correcting her mistake.

She looked at him and for a moment felt like she did back at Crawford, when her research was going well and she would go for lunch with Charlie regularly. He could always make her laugh. "It might take awhile for me to get used to that," she admitted, "you've always been Charlie to me. I hope you don't mind."

"Hell, you can call me anything you want, Doc." He pointed at her wine glass, and she eagerly drank the rest. "So, does this mean you're going to be sticking around for a bit?"

"I'd like to stay. At least for tonight anyway; I have more questions for you." She pointed at him, and narrowed her eyes. "But, for now, would you mind if I go to bed? I feel really tired."

She placed her glass down on the table and stood up, "I don't mind. Need any company?" He had that cheeky grin on his face that she knew so well.

"Well, now that I know the truth about you, I also know that you have a good few centuries on me, old man. It would be obscene." She smiled, nudging him with her hip as she went past.

He shrugged. "Well, can't blame a guy for trying."

(Later that night)

May shot upright in bed, her heart was hammering in her chest and a dull, throbbing ache pounded behind her temples. She leaned forward, resting her head on her knees which were curled against her chest. Her breathing was shaky and far too fast.

"You alright, Doc?" There was concern in Charlie's voice, but May didn't want him to see her like this.

"Sorry, I just had a nightmare. I sometimes have them about what happened at Crawford when the demons came and..." She kept her head buried in her knees, but felt the bed shift slightly as Charlie sat down next to her. Finally she looked up at him and smiled, "I'm ok, honestly. Thank you for checking on me."

He stood up, ruffling her hair slightly and started to make his way back across the room. Suddenly, and before she'd really thought about what she was saying, May called out to him, "Wait. Can you stay?"

"I don't think I should." The angel was staring at the floor now.

"Please, Charlie, I mean, Gabriel. I trust you and I feel better when you're around. I would really appreciate it if you could stay." She held the covers open, so that he could climb in next to her.

Finally he smiled and walked back towards her, "I thought you said I was too old for you, Doc."

"Stop kidding around." She scolded him, as he climbed in and lay down on his back next to her.

"Now that is a really big thing to ask..." He fell silent when May moved towards him, placing her head on his chest, ear pressed above the spot where his heart was.

As she rested against him she heard his heart beat faster and faster until she could feel it dully thudding against his rib cage. She understood in that moment what it might have been like for Gabriel to be on this Earth for so many years, with nobody who knew the truth about him and nobody who could truly understand him. She wondered what it must have felt like to not understand much of what you saw happening around you; all the unkindness's and violence humans did to each other must have been hard to see when you weren't capable of feelings like hate and anger. Sitting up she began to pull the shirt she had borrowed up, and as it passed her face she could smell his aftershave still lingering on the material. She wished she had been able to wash; her shift at the club had been long and hard and her hair smelled of cigarette smoke. Gabriel didn't seem to mind as he entwined his fingers in the long strands. May sighed as she rested her head back on his chest, she loved the feeling of his hands in her hair, but he was being too gentle with her; in her fantasies he had grasped huge chunks of her hair, rolling her onto her back and making love to her, all the time tugging at her hair making her cry out. Finally he did move on top of her, still with his hands gently wrapped in her hair, his forehead resting against hers; she felt his other hand at her waist, and then at her hips stroking the hem of her underwear. As he breathed so close to her she could smell icing sugar and alcohol on his breath. His eyes were full of passion and she nodded at him, softly, bringing her lips closer to his.

As he kissed her, May remembered the old Charlie, who was always throwing around sexual innuendos as though they were going out of fashion. But now he was finally with her he was treating her like she was a porcelain doll, all of his touches tentative as though he was afraid he would hurt her. Slowly she reached her hand down to guide his, helping him to push her underwear down. Then grasping his hand she led him towards the heat between her legs. He looked at her, as though unsure, and she gently guided his finger to the right spot.

When he brushed against her, she rolled her head back, biting her lip to stifle a moan. Finally, she felt his hand tighten in her hair as he pulled her head back further, exposing her throat to him. As he pushed two fingers inside her she gasped, moaning, "Yes, that's it..." and following the directions she was giving him he began to kiss her throat. Unable to stop herself, knowing she had been thinking about this moment for too long she cried out his name, "Charlie".

"Gabriel." He corrected her, this time firmly, and slid another finger inside her, pressing her hips into the mattress as he worked his fingers inside her more quickly. Reaching down again, May wrapped a hand around his erection, "Please, Gabriel, now."

He shook his head, continuing to move his arm, "No, not yet."

"Please, I can't wait much longer." She bit her lip again, trying to hold off the waves that were hitting her.

Unwinding is fingers from her hair, he grabbed the hand that was holding him and pressed it into the pillows above May's head, "No, it's too fast, May. I've waited for this for six years. I don't know how long I'll have you for. Please, just let me make you happy."

May closed her eyes as her orgasm rolled over her. She cried out, hand still wrapped around his as he held her down. It was only then, as she felt the contractions of the muscles inside her, that he drew her into his lap and entered her. She could only hold onto him as he slowly thrust into her, her head buried in his shoulder as she kissed him. His arms tightened around her as she cried out again. When she had regained her breath she looked at him, "You're not going to leave again are you, Gabriel?"

He stroked a piece of hair away from her face, "Not unless you're planning on going anywhere. You're not are you?"

She smiled, looking away, "Why would I want to do that? I've been thinking about you for six years, I have a lot of catching up to do."

Laughing, feeling freer than he had for a long time, Gabriel laid her back against the pillows, curling up against her and whispering in her ear, "Glad to hear it, Doc."


	9. Bad Company

Bad Company

Author note: Ok, so, just to break the, ahem, unbearable tension of the Cas-Deb storyline (which will continue at some point), I thought I'd do a one-shot. This is weird; it started off as Lucifer/OC but then turned into Crowley/OC. Read and review, guys.

The words were still ringing in her ears, _"What? They're just demons." _ That's what he'd said to the Winchester boy. She remembered just gaping at him as one after another of her kind fell; lives blinked out in order to feed Death. He'd never said anything like that to her before, he was her creator and she loved him. Now she felt like a dog that had been kicked. But she was still alive, and she thought there must be a reason for that.

Sullenly she approached the door, knocking twice and then entering. He was standing by the window, back turned. "What's the point in knocking if you don't wait for a response?" He sounded annoyed. He turned, finally looking at her, "Oh, Annie, come in, sit down."

She took a seat, lowering her eyes as he sat opposite her, "I just wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier, with Death."

He clapped his hands together, "I know. Wasn't it glorious?"

She nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap, "Oh, of course, it was... wonderful. I just, well, something you said made me think..."

He raised his eyebrows, "Be careful. You don't want to hurt yourself." Then he chuckled at his own joke.

Annie nodded her head, smiling slightly, "That's, er, funny. Erm, but I just wanted to know... what do you think of my kind?"

He narrowed his eyes and stood, walking over to the window again. He didn't speak.

Annie bit her lip, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He had been a tad unpredictable of late.

His breath left a pale mist on the glass, "I created you... you're my children, my soldiers."

"So, you do care about us then? You need us as much as we need you?" She was leaning forward in her chair.

When he turned he was smiling, "Annie, you know I care about _you_. You're my favourite; everyone knows that."

Annie smiled, her eyes shining with childish delight, "Really? Why?"

"Because you're loyal, Annie. You do as you're asked, and you don't question orders. I need more like you. "

She nodded. Loyal? She didn't feel loyal. She didn't believe a word he was saying to her. She looked at him, "Do you need me for anything tonight?"

He shook his head, turning away again, "No, you're free for tonight. I will need to see you tomorrow though." He didn't look at her as she moved to the door, "Annie, when I win, you will have a special place by my side in the new world. Your loyalty will not go unrewarded."

Closing the door she rested against it for awhile. She had always been loyal to a fault. Even during all those years he'd spent in the cage she'd loved him, wanted to set him free, believed that things would be better once he was out. She'd fought, killed to be by his side when he rose. She'd walked away from old allies and the people who'd taught her everything she knew. Now she wasn't even sure she wanted to be by his side. She found her feet taking her in the direction of the only other person in the world she trusted. She remembered him saying to her; _"Stay at the crossroad, sweetheart. It's where you belong, you're good at this. You don't want to get involved in all of that." _And she'd ignored him. She didn't even know if he'd want to see her again after that, but she needed his advice now.

As she approached the high electric gates the smell of smoke got stronger. She pressed her face against the bars peering through, but she was surprised to find that they swung open under her weight. As she stepped through into the yard she half expected guards to grab her and drag her up to the house, but as she got closer and the smoke cleared she saw that there wasn't much of a house left. Crowley's house had been burnt to the ground. "What the hell?" she whispered to herself.

She gasped as she felt someone grab her ankle, and a choked voice hissed painfully, "You..." She couldn't make out his face, it was so covered in scar tissues, but she assumed it was one of Crowley's guards. She stared down at the man, horrified. He could barely speak, his throat almost closed over. He held a small round coin out to her, "Crowley...alive. He'll find...you." She took the coin, grasping the man's hand for a moment before walking away.

Annie pushed open the door to her flat, flipping the coin through her fingers. "Well, I hate to say it, but I told you so. Lucifer's not quite what you expected, is he?"

She stared at the man leaning against her chest of drawers, dressed entirely in black. "Crowley." She flipped the coin over to him, "Tracking device?"

He caught it expertly, plucking it out of the air and placing it in one of his pockets, "Yes." He moved towards her, "It's nice to see you again, Annie." He placed a kiss on her cheek.

She grinned, "You too. But don't pretend that you don't like telling me I was wrong. You love it."

He shrugged, "Guilty as charged."

"Your house? Please don't tell me we..."

Crowley nodded, "Yes that was your lot. It's possible that Lucifer may have found out about a little incident where I may have given the Colt to the Winchester's."

Her eyes widened, "Why would you do that?"

"Why shouldn't I? I don't want him to win, and you shouldn't either."

Annie was almost shaking with rage, "So, whose side should I be on? The angels'?"

"He _is_ a bloody angel!" Crowley shouted, glaring at her.

Annie shook her head, "You don't know him, not really. He's always been good to me, Crowley. I didn't have anyone else."

"Oh, really? So what was I? I showed you the ropes; you were the best at working the crossroads. And I seem to remember that I was pretty damn good to you as well." He moved closer to her.

"That was a professional arrangement, Crowley. You showed me how to make a sale and I repaid you in kind." She crossed her arms.

He shook his head, "Don't be an idiot, Annie. It might have started off like that, but you know what it really was."

She laughed, "What, Crowley? Love? Now who's being an idiot? It was just infatuation, you know that. You would have kept me there forever, wouldn't you? Your little princess of the crossroads."

"Yes. I would. And what is so bloody wrong with that?"

"It's not fair, Crowley." She sighed, "You even said it yourself sometimes, when you were drunk. You told me I could do better, that I was talented, that I should do more, aim higher. That's what I did."

He grabbed her arms, shaking her, "I know, I know and that's all true. But not like this. Not with him. He doesn't care about us, not even about you. When he's done with you he'll kill you. Come with me now, while you still can. I'll keep you safe."

She backed away, "It's not that simple. I'm not going to leave him. I need to know for sure. I need to talk to him."

He groaned, "No, Annie. He'll kill you. He doesn't like disobedience. He burnt my bloody house down."

"I know, but I owe it to him to be honest. To find out the truth." She shrugged her shoulders, forlornly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning away, "Fine." He found his place by her drawers again and turned to her, "I'm going."

"Wait." She moved towards him, "You're kind of losing your touch, Crowley. Was that you giving me the hard sell?" She stood in front of him, placing her hands on his chest, "I mean, where's my incentive to go with you?" She looked up at him, gazing through her lashes.

He frowned, then pulled her head towards his, crashing his lips against hers, "You're an idiot." He gasped, breathless. "But, I prefer you alive." He kissed her again, "So, if it's incentive you want, I'll give it to you." He felt her hands fishing in his pockets as he kissed her, felt her back away holding something in her hand.

She laughed and deftly tucked his tracking device down her top, feeling the cool metal against her breast, "Go on then. Convince me."

He threw off his jacket and tie, and in his urgency he tore his shirt a little, and then moved towards her, "I'm beginning to remember why you were always my favourite."

(the next day)

Annie could barely walk the next day; Crowley really hadn't been joking when he'd said he'd missed her. The things that man knew how to do... After the third game of 'hunt the tracking device' she'd almost been ready to renounce Lucifer and run off with Crowley forever. But, she hadn't of course, which is why she was standing outside Lucifer's door again whilst Crowley was still curled up, asleep in her bed. She knocked quietly, this time waiting for an answer. When she didn't receive one she entered the room, "Hello?" She walked to the middle of the room.

"Annie," he was standing behind her, "did you have a good night off?"

_Oh yeah_, she thought. She shrugged, "Oh, y'know, quiet."

He smiled, moving towards her, "Good, "he looked concerned, "Annie, I've been worried recently. You haven't seemed quite yourself. I hope you're alright?"

She nodded, "I'm ok, thanks. It's just that, a lot's happened. There have been a lot of changes. It's difficult to adjust to I suppose."

He nodded, smiling, still moving towards her, "Good, I'm glad that's all it is. I'd hate to think you felt you couldn't speak to me about something. I need you to be honest with me, Annie."

She looked down at her feet.

"I know what you did last night." He was very close now; she could almost smell the degraded skin of his vessel, struggling to contain the angel within.

"It was just for fun." She mumbled.

"Then you should choose your fun more carefully." He lifted her head so she was looking at him, "Crowley is an enemy."

She shook her head, "He's one of your children too. He just doesn't understand. Maybe if you spoke to him; make him understand that you're on our side, that you're doing this for us."

He laughed. He looked like he wanted to speak, but just couldn't get the words out between the huge bursts of laughter that just kept coming. Finally, he collapsed in a chair, holding his stomach, "Do you even know what I am?"

"Father." She whispered.

"Well, yes, I suppose. But I made you to fight for me. I made you to win this war for me." He glared at her, "Sleeping with the enemy is not going to help us win, is it."

She nodded, "You're right, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Oh, sweetheart, come on. Don't say that. After we had such a good time as well." Annie's eyes widened and she turned to face the newcomer, "Crowley!" He nodded; standing behind him was another man, a human, wearing a baseball cap.

Lucifer moved towards them, "Well, this is a little suicidal, don't you think?"

The older man shook his head, "Nope. You may not be quite like all the other bastards we've dealt with. But, you are still an angel. So, this should work on you too." He pointed at the door they'd entered through, and it was only as he slammed his hand against it that she noticed it was dripping with blood, covered in markings. There was a flash and Lucifer was gone.

She stared at Crowley, "How did you know where to find me?"

He stepped towards her, pulling her against him and sliding his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. He held a shiny coin in front of her face, "I knew you'd do something stupid. So let's say, I just wanted to give myself a little insurance on that deal we sealed last night."

Annie smiled, looking down at her shoes, "Yeah, about that...I'm sorry; I fully intended to come back. I wasn't going to pull out of the deal or anything."

Crowley nodded, sliding the coin into his pocket, "Oh? That's a shame. I was hoping maybe we'd have to seal it again, just to make sure..."


	10. Sugar

Sugar

Author Note: I think people have been wanting another Gabe story, so here we go. Valentine's Day one-shot. I know I'm late, I'm late for everything. Sue me. Gabriel/OC.

Alice hunched down over the counter, eyes narrowed, and carefully iced another tiny red love heart onto the equally tiny fairy cake sitting in front of her. Straightening up and surveying her work she nodded, and then placed the cake into the display counter next to about thirty others she'd spent all day decorating. She sighed and blew a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. God, she hated Valentine's Day, and she wasn't even a little afraid to admit that her negative feelings were almost entirely due to the fact that she was single and, more than that, she was lonely. The fact that she worked in a cake shop didn't help either, of course. In the week running up to today the shop had been filled with gooey eyed couples placing orders for wedding cakes, and equally gooey eyed men and women buying lollipops festooned with love hearts and achingly unsentimental iced lettering declaring some lucky recipient to be 'my Valentine'. Reminding herself she glanced down at the wedding cake orders; there were five, and one was going to be a gigantic six tier behemoth of a cake with ridiculously elaborate decorations. Jeez, how much cake did one couple need? She was only vaguely aware of the tinkling of the shop door bell, indicating that another customer had entered.

She glanced up at the man who was now studying the contents of the display counter. She'd seen him in the shop a few times before; she assumed he really liked cake. No doubt he, like so many before him, was making the annual pilgrimage to her shop to buy his girlfriend a last minute, totally unoriginal gift. She flashed him a smile as he looked up and caught her studying him. He pointed to the fairy cakes, "Did you make those?"

Alice nodded, moving to stand in front of him, "Yep. All my own work. Trust me, they took me all day." She laughed slightly as he grinned and looked around the shop.

"Did you make everything in here?"

She looked around for a moment, considering. Deciding to ignore the rather tacky bought-in chocolate lollipops, she nodded, "Yeah, pretty much."

The man's face grew serious, "Ok, seriously, will you marry me?"

Alice was unsure what to say, so she did what she always did in situations such as this, which was laugh and blush ferociously. She looked up again as he reached a hand out towards her, "Name's Gabriel by the way. Or Gabe, whatever."

She nodded and held up her sticky hands, "Alice. Nice to meet you. I would shake your hand, but, as you can see, I'm having a bit of an icing sugar issue at the moment."

The man who'd introduced himself as Gabriel smiled, "Well, Alice, in that case I absolutely insist on shaking your hand." With that he leaned over the counter and grabbed her hand, shaking it up and down a couple of times and then proceeding to lick the icing sugar off his own fingers. He nodded, seeming satisfied, and then pointed at the fairy cakes that had started the conversation in the first place, "Give me some of those."

She pulled a white box out from under the counter, "Ok, how many?"

He narrowed his eyes as if making the most important decision of his life, "Oh, say...all of them." He threw a pile of cash down on the counter.

Alice paused, eyeing the cash, her hand hovering over the first cake. She glanced up at him, "Are you...All of them? Are you sure?" She didn't know whether to feel ecstatic that she was going to make a whole load of money, or disappointed that she would have to spend the entirety of tomorrow making a new batch.

He nodded, smiling, "Yeah, why not? Oh, but keep one for yourself. On me."

She laughed and began to pack the cakes into the box, "Ok, you're the boss. I just hope your girlfriend appreciates how generous you obviously are."

Gabriel frowned slightly, "What? These aren't for ...they're not for a girl."

Alice shrugged, "Fair enough. Who are they for?" She wasn't sure what had gotten into her, usually she wasn't this chatty, or nosy.

He grinned as she handed him the box of cakes and tapped the lid, "These are for me." He walked backwards to the door.

She couldn't help but laugh as she shouted after him, "In that case, I have one question." He paused at the door and raised his eyebrows, waiting, "How do you keep your figure?"

Gabriel smiled and shrugged, "I have a metabolism that is out of this world." With that he gave a slight wave goodbye and then left. As he walked past the window, Alice noticed that he'd already started to eat the cakes.

She deposited the cash in the till, and then turned back to the counter and looked at the cake he'd left her. She picked it up and eyed her creation closely. It had been refreshing in a way, to see someone coming into the shop to buy something nice for themselves. Maybe she should take a leaf out of his book. Sighing she bit into the cake, momentarily surprised by how good it actually was. She allowed herself only a glimmer of smugness, before busying herself with shutting up shop for the day.

(the next day)

As Alice approached the shop, digging in her bag for the keys, she noticed a man standing outside, barely managing to hold onto the biggest bouquet of flowers she'd ever seen in her life. The sight made her aware of that familiar nagging loneliness that started in the pit of her stomach and made its way up her throat until she felt like screaming. She rolled her eyes and continued walking.

As she approached she heard the man mutter something that sounded like, "Finally." He approached her, stumbling slightly and trying to see past the flowers that were partially covering his face, "You Alice?"

She nodded, frowning. He smiled and thrust the flowers into her arms, "You've certainly made an impression on someone. Although you might want to tell him to work on his timing; he's a whole day late." With that the delivery man hopped back into his van.

Abandoning the notion of being able to enter the shop just yet, Alice searched amongst the foliage for a card. Finding it she whispered the words to herself: 'Alice. Meet me tonight. Hanging Garden restaurant. 8 pm. I've run out of cake, bring more, please.'

Alice felt a grin spreading across her face, and found herself incapable of stopping it.

(later)

Alice stood outside the restaurant and smoothed her dress down with her free hand. She'd spent hours getting ready after work, repeatedly applying, wiping off and then re-applying lipstick, unable to stop herself as her nerves threatened to get the better of her. She jumped slightly as she felt someone bump into her and looked up as the same person linked an arm through hers. She was pleased that her hunch had been correct. It was him, Gabriel, the man from the shop. She smiled.

He looked down at her, "Hi Alice, you look...well, amazing. That dress is pretty special." He looked her up and down, and then moved closer, "Did you bring the cake?"

She nodded, grinning, and looked at the box tucked under her other arm, "Of course. Although I'm beginning to think you only want me for my cake." She stuck out her bottom lip slightly, in a mock pout.

Gabriel laughed out loud, "Well, I'm happy to spend some time proving how untrue that is. But, I thought you'd at least want to wait till after dinner for the steamy stuff." He raised his eyebrows.

Inwardly cursing herself for making such a forward comment, Alice lowered her eyes, immediately feeling her cheeks start to burn. "I didn't mean..." She started to mutter, but tailed off when she realised she had no idea what she'd meant.

He rolled his eyes and, placing a hand on the small of her back, he pushed her towards the restaurant, "Let's eat."

Later in the night Alice realised, to her surprise, that she was having an excellent time. At odds with the beginning of the night she now felt ridiculously comfortable with Gabriel. He was a very attentive listener, but at the same time he had a tendency not to take anything too seriously; which she liked, because his perspective was so different to her own. The only time he had seemed serious was when he was being evangelical about how amazing her cakes were; he'd even repeated his marriage proposal again, and Alice thought it seemed that he was only half joking.

As they finished paying the bill, she sat back in her chair smiling about nothing in particular and took a sip of wine. "So, Alice, why do you hate Valentine's Day?" She coughed slightly, as the liquid ran down her throat the wrong way.

"I don't..." She started.

He shook his head, "Sure you do. No big deal, it's just you had that look on your face when I came in the shop the other day. That 'I swear to God, if you ask me to decorate a cake with the words 'I love you' right now, I will rip your balls off' look. It's a dead giveaway."

She looked down at her lap, suddenly uncomfortable and unsure what to say.

He leaned closer, definitely serious now, "Alice, have you ever heard that saying that you need to love yourself before anyone else can? I think that's true, and I think it definitely applies to you. You should think a lot more of yourself than you do."

Alice smiled, sighing, "Thanks..."

"I mean it. This is very serious." He leaned back in his chair studying her. "Believe me, I know. I spent most of my life in service to other people, making sure everyone else was happy, doing what I was told. In the end though you learn that sometimes you just have to do what's right for you and screw everyone else."

She tilted her head and looked at him, let out a slow, steady breath and then nodded, "Ok, well in that case, let's go."

"Where?"

"To eat cake." She stood, leaving a tip on the table, picked the cake box up and walked to the door.

He followed her, rushing slightly to catch up, "Ok, but where?"

She smiled slightly, not looking at him, "My place."

The grin reappeared on his face, "Awesome."

(later)

Hours later, the cake remained untouched on the sideboard. They lay on her bed, her legs still around his waist, bodies entwined with him still inside her. Occasionally he moved against her, and she would cry out quietly. Alice didn't regret a second of what had just happened, and she was glad that she didn't feel even slightly awkward despite how intimate she'd just been with someone who was almost a total stranger. Her own neediness, longing and desperate, frantic desire when they'd returned to her flat had not surprised her; after all, it had been a long time since she'd been with anyone. She had been surprised by the way he acted though, his tenderness and fumbling apologies when he tore the sleeve of her dress; his passionate need to remove as many pieces of clothing in the shortest time possible was endearing. She began to wonder whether he may have needed this just as much as her. She looked up at him, but his eyes were closed and he seemed content to stay exactly as he was for the foreseeable future.

She smiled, "Hey Gabriel, I never asked, what's your opinion on Valentine's Day?"

He opened his eyes for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as he thought, "Well, I have to admit I've never really been a fan." He looked down at her, and smiled, "I think I could get to like it though."


	11. Beat the Devil's Tattoo

Beat the Devil's Tattoo

Author Note: Ok, this is a Lucifer! Nick /angel OC. I always wondered whether Lucifer had ever loved, even before he fell. This story starts to explore his past connections a little. There is some violence by the way. Let me know what you think.

Lucifer stared down at his brother's body, black wings unfurled and useless around him. He felt something inside him snap suddenly, and part of him wanted to fall to his knees and take back what he had done. But he didn't. He stood, curling and uncurling his fingers, contemplating Gabriel's lifeless form. _I'm on their side_, he'd said. Humanity. They'd taken everything from him. His father's love, his rightful place in heaven, and now his brother. Why should his kind serve them? They'd tried for millennia to change his father's last and most flawed creation, punishing them when they strayed and guiding them towards the right path. To no avail. _He was wrong_, Lucifer thought looking at his brother; _they don't try to do good. And they do not forgive, not unless it serves their own purposes_. Humanity was an infection, spreading itself across the globe, and it needed to be wiped out. But still, as he looked down on Gabriel, he felt his eyes stinging and felt the moisture pooling just above his lower lashes. The waves of emotion he was feeling were threatening to extinguish his burning rage.

He turned and left the building, walking out into the night time air and letting the rain wash the blood from his hands and arms. He looked around the empty parking lot, eyes finally landing on a solitary car parked on the highway. A girl was standing nearby, illuminated by a flickering light overhead, holding a cell phone up to the sky and cursing softly, looking around her. Lucifer walked towards her, plastering a fake smile onto his vessel's face. The girl looked torn as he approached, obviously wondering whether to make a dash for the safety of her car or to stay and see if he could help her. She settled on the latter.

She looked up at him and he took in her big, doe eyes, which were narrowed slightly to stop the rain falling into them. She stepped backwards slightly as she really looked at him. Lucifer knew his vessel was falling apart, the side of his face especially looked like it was burning from the inside out. Which in effect, it was. Finally the girl smiled at him; her mother must have told her never to judge a book by its cover or some other such nonsense. That wasn't always true, and she was going to learn the hard way. "Hi. My car broke down and I can't get reception. Can you help me out?"

Lucifer did his best to look concerned, moulding his vessel's face into the appropriate expression, "Oh, I think so. Where you headed?"

The girl pointed up the road, "Just home; a couple of towns in that direction." She glanced back at him, "But I don't need a lift or anything. Do you have a cell phone or, is there a phone in the hotel?" She took a step forward, towards the building he'd just left.

"No." He took her arm, not roughly, "Don't worry, I can take you home."

She blinked and missed the journey. This was probably a good thing, as most humans would probably find it slightly disorientating, Lucifer thought. He took in her frightened expression as she looked around. He had to admit, he'd done well to find this place. The old warehouse was crowded with broken heavy machinery, which cast strange, threatening shadows around them, closing them in. He watched a tear roll down the girl's face, and was pleased when he felt nothing at all. Stepping closer her grabbed a fistful of her dark hair, feeling bits of it snap off in his fingers, "Don't worry, this isn't personal, I hate you all equally." He whispered.

He didn't know what to do at first and considered throwing her against a wall. Instead he just drew his fist back and hit her once. The minute the punch connected her face split open in a number of places, and blood seeped out of the wounds. He felt disappointed; _why are they so easy to kill? _He'd wanted screaming and crying, but the girl simply stared at him wide-eyed, numb with shock. He let her fall to the ground, and she landed on her back, still staring at him, face covered with blood and tears. He placed his foot over her windpipe, preparing to press down slowly; he would see at least some fear in her eyes before she died.

Lucifer frowned as the wind picked up strength outside, rattling at the windows and throwing lashings of rain at the old steel roof. His eyes darted upwards to take in the dim light bulb above them, which had started flickering a few seconds ago. He rolled his eyes, "You have to be kidding." He stretched his hands out to the sides, "Since when do you care so much about one little human? Just let me get on with this. I'm angry; it'll make me feel better." He looked into the girl's eyes, but she was staring at something else, something behind him.

"Leave her be, Lucifer." It was a female voice, soft and musical, but strong. As he turned to face the speaker, the girl crawled away from him, getting to her feet and running, clutching at her battered face as she did so.

His heart fell for the second time that night as he looked at the woman standing before him. How could they send her? She had been his only companion in Heaven by the end; when the other's had turned from him, laughing at his pride, she had listened to him, tried to understand what he was saying. When the other's ignored him as a lost cause, she sought him out and tried to change his mind with reason. He stared at her. She was so _good_ she was practically shining through her vessel's skin; anyone would know instantly looking at this girl that she was special. Lucifer knew he had to be careful, she was not a high ranking angel, but she was loyal to Heaven. From the look in her eyes Lucifer guessed that the time for talking had passed.

"Armaita, why have you come? My fight is not with you." As he looked at her, he remembered everything she had done for him, every time she had remained loyal to him when he commanded her and, even at the end, how she had refused to help strike him down.

The other angel smiled at him, raising her arms towards him. He gladly walked towards her, intending to hold her, intending to remember what love felt like. But when he reached her he found that he could not look her in the eyes, could not stand before her. So he fell to his knees and looked away, finally feeling a tear fall and run down his cheek. He buried his face against her legs, grabbing them and holding on like he had when they'd gathered round him in Heaven for the last time; Michael with his flaming sword ready to pull him away from her and cast him out forever. He felt a hand under his chin, guiding his face up so that she was looking directly at him. He flinched as she struck him, right below the left eye, and he fell sprawling on the ground.

"Was your fight with Gabriel, then?" She walked round him, shaking her head. "No. You killed him because he disagreed with you. Just like you killed so many of our kind before you were cast down; you killed them because they wouldn't serve you instead of God. Your pride killed them." She knelt beside him, and the flash of pity in her eyes awakened the anger in the pit of Lucifer's stomach. She shook her head again, "Your tears are the tears of a liar. You don't feel, you don't feel anything and you never have. You're not sorry you killed your brother, and these, these tears, are a show. You've never loved in your life and I don't think you know how."

He reached for her, grasping her and throwing her to the ground, wrapping a hand around her neck, "I have loved. I loved my father, and he hated me. I loved my brother's and they turned against me. I loved you...and you..."

Armaita stared up at him, "Loved _me_? How did you show me love, Lucifer? When they threw you down you grabbed hold of me and tried to pull me into hell with you. Is that love?"

He glared at her, _Yes, in a way, it is_, he thought. He clenched his fist, and gritted his teeth but in the end he could only respond in one way. He hit her, heard the back of her vessel's head bounce off the concrete slightly. He only knew one way to deal with disobedience, and he felt like he was back at the head of Heaven's host dealing with an unruly soldier.

She looked up at him, eyes slightly dimmer than they had been before, "I listened to you for hours, for days, Lucifer. I wanted to understand what you were saying. I tried so hard. Even after you were gone I wanted to understand. And now I do." He looked down at her, soundlessly begging her not to give him another reason to hit her. "It was never about freeing us, was it? All that nonsense about angel's being better than humans, about deserving more than we had. You never wanted that. Everything you did you did for yourself, because you wanted power."

He hit her again, and her lip split. She spit the blood onto the ground and continued to tell him what deep down he already knew. As he hit her again he whispered at her, "Please, stop talking. Just stop."

And finally she did. Her head rolled back, but her eyes were still focused on his face. He reached a hand into her jacket and pulled out the blade he knew she'd be carrying. He studied it and held it over her.

She coughed, more blood seeping out of her cracked lips, "Is this love too?" She croaked up at him.

Lucifer gripped the hilt of the knife, licking his lips and trying to summon up the courage to use it. As he looked down at her, he found himself unsure whether he could do this again, whether he could endure the feeling of metal cutting through somebody he cared for twice in one night. If he killed her he would sever what was probably his final tie to Heaven, and to the peace he had enjoyed whilst he'd been there with his brothers and sisters.

He dropped the blade and it clattered noisily on the concrete. He backed up, heading for the door. Finally he saw Armaita close her eyes, allowing her vessel to heal. If Armaita served Michael anywhere near as loyally as she had served him then she would never stop searching. As Lucifer walked out into the night he felt certain that she would find him again. A small part of him hoped she would.


	12. Existential Crisis

Existential Crisis

Author Note: This is a Gabriel/OC story. I'm not sure I like it to be honest, but after the day I've had I couldn't face editing the next chapter of the Debs/Cas storyline. Way too depressing. So, I wrote this. Basically it's a story based on the idea that Gabriel survives the showdown with Lucifer and starts to live his life post-almost Apocalypse. He wants to play a more helpful part in the everyday life of humans, and decides to become a guardian angel. But is he cut out for it...?

Gabriel peered around the brightly lit room, glancing over the rim of his coffee cup at the various patrons sharing the cafe with him. It was at times like this that he wished he could speak to Castiel: _'Hey bro, so, exactly how does one go about becoming a guardian angel?'_

A small part of him had always wanted to be a guardian, even when he was still in Heaven. As an archangel he'd always felt a little detached from the proper business of being an angel. Sure, every so often he'd fought in a war or delivered a message for his Father; scared a few shepherd and wise men, that kind of thing. But... he'd always wanted a...ward, guardianee? He wasn't even sure what the correct term was. Looking after the Winchesters had certainly seemed to have a positive effect on that stick in the mud Castiel.

_But how do I choose just one human?_ He thought,_ there are just so many! _ He sighed, standing up to leave. As he turned he collided with someone shorter than him, feeling a sudden burning sensation down his chest.

"Shit! I am so sorry..."

Gabriel acknowledged that he had always had a quick temper, and he felt it bubbling up inside him as he confronted the stranger, "Hey lady, are you blind?" The words were out of his mouth before he even noticed the guide dog by the woman's side, staring up at him sheepishly, obviously aware that he'd caused trouble for his owner. '_Oh...' _thought Gabriel, utterly out of witty one-liners.

There was an awkward silence, wherein the girl simply stared up at him and the dog whimpered soulfully at her side. It was the girl that finally broke the stalemate. "I'm really sorry. It's my guide dog, he's new, just finished training. God, your shirt must be ruined." She began to dig around in her bag, "Let me give you some money to get it cleaned."

Gabriel paused, glanced down at his shirt and noted the brown stain down the front. Then he looked down at the crushed take-out coffee cup lying between their feet, the only real victim of their collision except his slightly wounded pride. He laughed and reached out a hand to take her wrist, "No, no, it was my stupid shirt's fault in the first place. It got in the way of your coffee cup. Let me buy you another."

She smiled, very prettily, he thought. The slight blush that rose to her cheeks made him feel a slight swell of pride, _'Yep, human women, they can't resist me.'_

"Thanks for the offer, but, actually I'm just quite embarrassed. It's been one of those days. I'll just go." She tugged on the dog's lead slightly, glancing back up momentarily. "Sorry again." She muttered, before making her way to the door.

Gabriel wasn't sure why he followed her. It was probably those words, 'It's just been one of those days' – she sure sounded like a girl who could do with a guardian angel. So here he was, walking behind her. Every so often he would find his eyes wandering down her body, taking in the graceful sway of her hips. At these times he would chastise himself sternly for his un-guardian like behaviour. He found himself wondering whether Castiel had ever had this problem; he was the angel of Thursday after all, he had a lot of humans in his care and at least some of them had to be hot. He noticed that she'd stopped and was standing in front of a door rummaging in her bag again, probably looking for keys. Gabriel instinctively turned and pretended to examine the display window of a second hand bookshop, and then wondered why he was bothering. He heard a rattle of metal and glimpsed her stooping to find her dropped keys. As he watched her, contemplating whether he should help, he noticed another man leaning against a lamppost across the road; his eyes glued to the girl even more avidly than his own had been.

Gabriel frowned; he was sure that, if the girl had been able to sense the intensity of the gaze that was trained on her, her skin would be crawling. Uneasy, he stepped forward, watching her continue to search for her keys. Her left hand looked slightly red and scolded, from the coffee spillage he assumed. He glanced behind him at her guide dog who was staring at the man across the street, hackles slightly raised, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Gabriel bent down next to the girl, "Here, let me help." He grasped the keys and handed them to her.

She stood up, again he noticed how short she was; she only reached his chest. "The guy from the coffee shop, right? I recognise your voice."

Gabriel nodded, "Yep, glad I could be of service." He glanced back at the man who looked, if it were possible, even more intent. In fact, he wasn't leaning against the lamp post anymore, instead looking as though he were about to cross the road.

The girl looked uncomfortable for a moment, "I know this will sound weird, but, is someone watching me?"

He looked down at her briefly, then placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her toward her front door, "Yes, but you have your key. Just go inside and lock the door."

She nodded, inserting the key into the lock and turning it. Gabriel noticed her wince at the movement; by now the scolded hand was probably in danger of blistering if she didn't treat it. He waited until she was inside and had heard the lock click shut again before he turned. The man had left his spot, and was now hurrying down the road, occasionally glancing back at Gabriel.

The archangel deliberated for a moment, before clicking his fingers.

Inside the flat was warm and bright, with surprisingly little clutter that usually dominated human living spaces. There were vases of flowers dotted around the room and the air was thick with their scent. On one small table was a book, which Gabriel picked up. He ran his fingers over the bumps and ridges of Braille, imagining her doing the same, mouthing the words silently to herself as she read. As she walked into the kitchen he noted how different she seemed, each movement certain and graceful. As he watched her begin to open cupboards and pull out various jars, he realised that she was utterly comfortable here, knew every inch of their flat intimately. Her familiarity with the surroundings had taken away that shy awkwardness in the coffee shop.

Gabriel felt a tug on his jeans and heard a low growling. He looked down to find the girl's guide dog puppy attached to the fabric of his trousers. He glanced back at the girl, who had stopped what she was doing and turned. She laughed, "Hey, what's wrong with you, Harvey? What are you doing now?" She stepped forward, but the dog's growling quickly turned into a loud barking sound as he backed away from Gabriel, teeth bared.

The angel waved his hands at the dog, holding a finger to his lips, but it made little difference.

The girl was leaning against the counter again, "Is someone there?"

He stared at her as the dog began to move between his owner and the intruder, snapping his teeth.

When she spoke again, Gabriel heard the slight tremor in her voice and felt genuine regret; this was not what he'd wanted, "Paul? Is that you?" She paused, scanning the room, "I told you not to come here again. It's over."

Gabriel frowned, _Paul? _ He thought for a moment, _The guy across the road? Had to be._

Again that slight tremble in her voice snapped him back to awareness, "If someone's there, please say something."

The archangel sighed; this was a tricky situation. He could just leave, but she looked so genuinely terrified that he felt she needed some kind of explanation. But how do you explain _this _to someone? He imagined himself delivering Castiel's usual monotone, 'I am an angel of the Lord' line and almost laughed out loud. Yeah, that was bound to work. He stepped forward, pulling a bar of candy out of his pocket, swiftly unwrapping it and throwing it to the dog, "Ok, don't be afraid, this is not as weird as it looks...sounds." He shook his head, aware that he was stumbling over his words like a fool. He shrugged and steeled himself slighty, "I am...I'm ...an angel of the Lord."

She was silent for awhile, "No, you're the guy from the coffee shop."

He nodded, "Yes, that's also true. But I _am _an angel. I followed you, because I wondered whether you had...whether you might like a guardian angel." He slapped a hand to his forehead, mentally berating himself for his stupidity.

She laughed, opening a drawer and pulling out a kitchen knife, "You're a maniac." She pointed the blade in his general direction, "Please leave."

He raised his hands again, "I can prove it. I can prove that I am what I say I am." The minute the words left his lips he wanted to kick himself. _How exactly do I prove that I'm an angel to someone who can't see me?_ He racked his brains. He could speak to her in his true voice, but the chances of her head exploding were relatively high. He thought about her other senses. Sight and sound were out. Smell, taste? He could magic a cake into the room, but even if he could get her to taste it, it wouldn't really prove anything other than that he was a maniac who carried cake around with him. Touch? A wave of obscene images flittered through his mind.

She waved the knife at him, "I'm waiting. Prove it."

He thought about the usual consequences of showing a human his physical form; they obviously didn't count here. He considered his wings for a moment, she wouldn't be able to see them but maybe she could feel them. "I'll need to come closer to you, or you need to come closer to me."

She shook her head, "You can't ask me to do that." He noticed the way her hands shook as she grasped the knife.

He stepped towards her again. Harvey had obviously decided that Gabriel posed no threat since he'd given him food, and silently let him pass. Gabriel tried to keep his voice low, soothing, "I promise, everything will be fine. You can keep hold of the knife if it helps." He thought it was probably best not to tell her that it couldn't harm him anyway.

As he approached he saw both her hands tighten instinctively around the handle of the knife. He focused on bringing just his wings into the physical world, feeling them stretch out around him, stirring the air as they did so, his long dorsal feathers brushing the edges of the room on each side. He saw her flinch slightly; she had obviously sensed a change in the room. There were only a few steps separating them as he held out his hand, "Give me your hand."

She shook her head, knuckles turning white as they gripped the blade tighter.

As gently as he could, he pried the knife from her fingers and held her hand in his before slowly guiding it to his shoulder and placing it there. He saw her frown slightly as she felt nothing but the normal rounded shoulder blade of a man. As her fingertips found the spot at which his wing erupted from the skin a gasp escaped her lips. Gabriel sighed as she ran her fingers over his wings, all fear seemingly gone as she explored the new sensations beneath her fingertips. She was gentle but thorough, at one point burrowing both hands deep into his feathers where they were thickest and then letting one of his longest feathers slide between her index finger and thumb as she studied it separately. He envied her in that moment, envied how eager and innocent she was in her explorations.

It was a new experience for him too, though. No human had ever seen, let alone touched, his wings, and he found himself hoping that she wouldn't stop too soon. When he next opened his eyes, her hands had left his wings and were touching his face; one running over his lips and another stroking his jaw line. He had a sudden, desperate urge to do the same to her, but instead brought his hands up to clasp her wrists.

She pulled her hands away quickly, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. It's just how I see."

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's just... Nobody's ever touched me quite like that before and...I just needed you to stop."

She nodded, stepping away. Instantly, he regretted telling her to stop, longed to feel her hands touching him again. He shook himself, _No, my plan here is to be helpful. My plan is to be a guardian, like Castiel, and guardian's do not screw their charges._

Her voice was quiet, "I still don't really understand why you're here."

Gabriel nodded, "I've been away from Heaven for a long time. I thought I had everything sorted, thought I was finally living the life I wanted to live. But...I've never really felt a part of anything. Never felt like I was useful to anyone. I was involved in something recently that made me reconsider what I want. It made me think about where my loyalties lie." He stopped, realising that he'd said too much and too little all at once. This was a huge thing he was expecting her to understand.

She smiled, "And part of your new plan is to become my guardian angel?"

He paused, an answer on the tip of his tongue. He wanted the answer to be yes, but the ache in his groin and his almost overwhelming desire to wrap her up in his wings and kiss her told him otherwise. Maybe he just wasn't the angel he was pretending to be. He sighed, uncertain.

The girl cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, I've used up too much of your time already. I should let you go. I'm sure you have other things to do."

Gabriel shrugged, "Actually, I don't really have anywhere else I need to be right now."

"I always kind of imagined angels would be...quite busy." She looked confused.

The archangel nodded, "Usually they are. Thing is, I'm not really the kind of angel who usually does this whole guardian thing. I'm a...different rank of angel. So I don't really have anything to do right now except be here."

The girl bit her lip, "What's your name?"

He raised his eyebrows, "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"Rachel."

"Gabriel." He offered back.

Rachel sat reading that night, legs curled under her on the couch, feeling the words as she ran her fingertips over them. She could sense him watching her; she could always tell when someone was with her. She laid the book across her lap, "Hello, Gabriel." She felt the couch move under her as he sat down.

"How do you do that?" His voice was sardonic, jovial as usual.

She shrugged, turning her body towards him, "I can usually tell when I'm not alone. Just a...instinct I guess." She bit her lip, before slowly reaching her hand towards him, "Would it be ok for me to touch your face? It's weird, not knowing what you look like." She received no answer; he had seemed reluctant to let her touch him since letting her touch his wings and she wondered whether she had hurt him in some way. Her fingers grasped the material of his shirt and worked upwards, "It won't take long." She whispered, moving towards him slightly. As her hand found his jaw line he was pleased that he didn't stop her as he had last time. Her thumb ran over his lips, marking the slight upturn at the corners. She'd imagined that he would usually have a smile on his face. Carefully, she stroked the skin on his chin, nose, and cheeks and then patted around his eyes. She frowned slightly; unlike his lips his eyes seemed slightly...sad. The laughter lines she'd expected to find were not there. Letting her hands drop to rest against his arm she wondered again whether she'd done something to upset him, "What's wrong?"

She heard him sigh, a quiet exhalation of breath, "I'm not sure this was such a good idea."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat, "What do you mean?" She felt the couch move again underneath her, realised he'd stood up. His voice moved from left to right as he paced in front of her.

"I'm pretending to be someone I'm not." She waited patiently, trying to follow him with her eyes as he moved about the room, "I told you I haven't been a part of Heaven for a long time? That's because I've been here. I've drunk, I've smoked, and I've done things with women that would make you blush." He stopped his voice quieter, "Worst of all, I've killed. I've killed hundreds of humans over the years, just for fun. And I thought I could be like Cas."

Rachel tried to take everything in, but felt utterly overwhelmed, "Who's Cas?"

She heard him groan, and when he spoke again he was almost shouting at her, "Castiel. Another angel." Then he was in front of her, so close she could feel his breath on her face, his fingers wrapped around her arms, "But that's not the point. Rachel, did you hear what I said? I've killed people. Lots of people. Why would you want a guardian angel like me?"

She shook her head, "I didn't ask you to be my guardian angel. I didn't even ask you to be here. If you don't want to be, you can just go."

She felt his hands drop from her arms momentarily, then felt them again on her face, more gentle this time, "Is there anything I can do to help you before I go? Anything you want?"

Rachel nodded, "Can I...can I touch your wings again?" She remembered feeling the feathers running through her fingers, softer than anything she could have imagined.

He sighed again, "Anything but that."

Rachel felt her heart leap into her throat for a second, "Did I hurt you?"

Gabriel looked at her, noticed that her eyes were moist, her hands shaking slightly in her lap, "No, you didn't. The problem is that it felt good, Rachel. Too good."

He saw the confusion on her face, saw her struggling to understand how it could be a bad thing to feel good. A small blush crossed her face and he knew then that she had understood. An angel shouldn't, couldn't, feel that good around any human. He stood, and it was almost a physically difficult task to wrench himself away from her. "I'll go now." He raised his hand, "If you ever need me, just think about me, I'll know." And he was gone.

Rachel sighed as the warm water closed around her. She smiled as she heard the tiny crackle of bubbles from the bath soak. This was the first time since Gabriel left that she'd begun to feel even vaguely normal again. She shook her head as she remember the empty feeling in her stomach right after he left; considering she'd only known him for a day, angel or no, he had made an extraordinarily big impression on her. Still, though, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought of his admission that having her touch him felt too good, and everything that implied. She imagined that thinking like this probably constituted some kind of blasphemy, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. There had been such a lot of sadness in him; she wasn't sure there was anything she could have done to make him feel better.

Swiftly, remembering his last words to her, she tried to erase all thoughts of him from her mind; she doubted that getting him to appear when she was in the bath would be the best idea. Suddenly, the harsh electronic buzz of her ancient intercom system invaded her thoughts and she groaned out loud. Wrapping her bath robe around her she padded, dripping, to the door, lifting the receiver, "Hello?"

"Hey, Rachel, baby. It's Paul." She sighed; she doubted any voice on the other end of the line would have been less welcome.

"What do you want, Paul?"

"Well, I think I might have left something here. It's a file I need for work. It would be great if I could just come up and get it."

Rachel shook her head, considering her options, "Ok, Paul. I'll let you into the building. Don't come upstairs, please, just tell me where it is and I'll bring it down to you." She hoped and prayed that he would just play along but to no avail.

"Rachel, honey, it will take me 5, 10 minutes at most. I don't know exactly where it is. Please, just let me in."

She nodded, leaning her head against the wall, pushed the door release, "Ok, Paul. Ten minutes."

Rachel opened the door, waiting for him, picking at the sleeve of her bathrobe as she did so. She knew instantly when he was standing in the doorway, knew he was looking at her. It felt different to when Gabriel had been there, she could feel Paul's eyes crawling up and down her body. Inadvertently she pulled the robe tighter around her, "Hey, Paul."

The door clicked shut behind him and she heard him step towards her, "Hey, honey, do I get a kiss?"

Rachel shook her head, stepping back. She was somewhat comforted by the feel of Harvey, soft and warm pressed against her leg. Suddenly, she heard a yelp, and then Paul was laughing, "Oh, wow, look at this little guy. Who is he?" His voice was taunting, sarcastic.

She held her hands out, "It's Harvey, Paul. He's my new guide dog. Can I have him, please?" There was a pause, and she winced as she heard more yelping. Fear made her brave for just a moment, "Paul, stop hurting my dog. Just get your file and get out!" There was another pause and then the reassuring weight against her leg again as Harvey returned to his usual position.

She sighed in relief, but heard Paul step towards her, "I don't want to hurt your dog, you stupid little bitch. I want an explanation. Did you really think you could just throw me out?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around herself, "We were fighting all the time. You hit me, Paul. You made me feel like I was...like I was, going mad. You kept moving my stuff, hiding my keys..."

He moved closer, close enough for her to smell the bitter scent of scotch on his breath, "That doesn't mean it's over. I say when it's over, not you!"

She nodded, finding her back pressed against the kitchen counter again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of Paul ranting at her. She thought about Gabriel, called his name over and over in her head. Then Paul was against her, hands on her robe, tugging at it. Rachel tried to ignore him, thought about Gabriel. Frustration was building up, like a tight little ball at the back of her throat; this was what he'd told her to do. Think and he would know, he would come. Paul's hand was tugging at her hair now, yanking her head back; his other hand clutching at her flesh inside the robe. She wanted to scream at him, to lash out at him. Instead she kept her eyes firmly shut, imagined digging her fingers into soft feathers again. And then Paul was gone; she could still feel him on her skin where he'd clawed at her, but otherwise she knew that she was alone.

Gabriel looked down at the man in front of him, "You must be Paul. Nice to meet you." He gestured at the scene around them. "So, welcome to my world; a place I affectionately refer to as TV Land. It was originally created for some...friends of mine. They don't need it anymore, so this will be your new home Paul, for the foreseeable future."

Paul looked up and laughed at the small-ish man standing in front of him, "Look man, I don't know who you are, but you better get gone."

Gabriel chuckled, raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

It was then that Paul launched himself at Gabriel and found himself back on the floor quicker than he could blink. Gabriel yanked the man's arm upwards, relishing the snap and the agonised scream that came after it, "Ok, this is how it's going to work," He looked at Paul, "either, you promise to leave Rachel alone, or you stay here, forever. And, trust me, I can be very inventive."

Paul gasped, shook his head, "That's not going to happen."

Gabriel moved away, "I'm sorry, but it is." Then he left, before Paul really started screaming.

She was still standing where he left her. A single tear threaded its way down her cheek and he moved towards her, taking her hands in his, "It's ok Rachel, he's gone."

Her hands moved swiftly to his face, quickly running over the contours of his cheeks, nose and lips. When she was finished she dropped her hands, "Thank you for helping. Looks like you're better at this whole guardian thing than you thought."

He smiled and shook his head, "I wish." He sighed, "Rachel, I _wanted _you to need me. I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left."

She nodded, "So, what happens now?" She could taste the salty tang of blood in her mouth, and decided that she must have bitten her tongue at some point.

The angel looked at her, his gaze lingering longer than it would have if he knew she could return it; her skin was red, blotchy where the tears had left their tracks, traces of darkness that would become bruises on her neck where Paul had held her. She was unquestionably; unavoidably human and he had made a promise to her. He shook his head, "Now I have to go."

Rachel frowned; she'd heard that tone of voice before, slightly defeated, full of pity. In a rush her past relationships came flooding back; all the ones that had meant something to her ending too quickly and all the ones that had caused her pain dragging on for what felt like endless periods of time. She knew from his tone that her relationship with Gabriel was about to end up in the former category; even the man who claimed to be her guardian angel couldn't stand to be around the endless car crash that her life was turning into.

She lowered her head again, one hand rubbing at her neck, trying to massage some feeling back into the numbness that Paul had left there, her voice was no more than a whisper, "I know why you want to go. It's my sight, isn't it? It makes you feel like you're taking advantage." She paused, hands dropping to her sides, "It's ok, though. You're not the first person to feel that way."

Gabriel stared at the girl as though she was mad; not really believing anyone could feel that way when they looked at her. He remembered the smooth skin of her fingertips, on his face, in his wings; wondered if admitting that he wanted her to touch the rest of him would sound too weird. No, it was not her blindness that made him uncomfortable.

It was her mortality. Her position as one of his father's creations. Over his years on earth, he'd grown to think of them as weak, no more than playthings really. The almost-Apocalypse had changed all that, and Rachel was the first human he'd spoken to since then. He could no longer take pleasure from human women where he could find it and leave the next day; not since proclaiming himself to be on their side, since so eloquently arguing in defence of them to his brother.

It would not, he thought, be taking advantage to be with her because of her blindness, but it would be taking advantage to do so after fostering a relationship based on him protecting her.

Her voice broke him out of his existential crisis momentarily, "Gabriel, I...can't see, but I can _feel_ how you look at me. It feels different to the way most people look at me, it feels different to when Paul looked at me. You don't need to leave if you don't want to...I'm not afraid when you're here."

Rachel never imagined that the sharp snapping sound of fingers clicking together could make her feel so utterly alone, but in that moment it did.


	13. Author Note:This is Not A Story

Hello!

No, I'm sorry, I really meant it. This isn't a story.

I've had this idea buzzing around in my head all day, and I thought I might as well just put it out there and see where it gets me. I'm talking about a Round Robin fanfic. Here's the thing; I want to write a longer Gabe or Trickster/OC story, but I don't want to write the whole thing myself. So, I thought I'd see if anyone wants to write it for me, or at least with me.

So, the plan is:

Anyone interested in writing a collaborative fanfiction needs to either PM me, or reply to this post with a review, in the affirmative.

Then, once there's been time for the responses to come rushing in (…), I'll create an account using a generic team name with a generic sign in email address and password. I will PM this info to everyone who wants to be involved along with a list of people who have agreed to take part. That way everyone can sign into the account separately when it's his or her turn to write.

Each person on the list will write a chapter of the story, and I will co-ordinate this as best I can by letting the next person know when it's their turn.

There are only a few rules:

I will write the first chapter. This is partly because I'm a control freak, and partly because that way I can make sure it's definitely going to be a Gabe/OC fic.

There is no word count you must meet. So, feel free to write as much or as little as you feel comfortable with, but you must progress the story in some way. So, if you're only going to write a sentence, it has to be a bloody good one.

If it is your turn to write next, and you feel for whatever reason that you can't produce something within four weeks of getting a prompt from me, then let me know. I will pass it to the next person.

You can't just ignore what the person in front of you has written. You have to engage with it, even if you don't like it.

Don't expect the end result to be good. In fact, expect it to be a complete cluster fuck and you probably won't be disappointed.

I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I've done things like this at a lot of creative writing groups and it's always a laugh, and has sometimes given me great ideas for other stories.

Anyone in?

Maisy


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